


I'm Gonna Live 'Til I Die

by njgirl0976



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1950s Vegas, Casinos, Corruption, Escorts, F/F, F/M, Gambling, Lots of Sex, Mayhem, Mobsters, Murder, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 62,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8523196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njgirl0976/pseuds/njgirl0976
Summary: What happens when best friends from New Jersey flee their little tourist town and try to take Las Vegas by storm? Murder. Mayhem. Money. Sex. Gambling. Corruption. Hookers. Gangsters. And they don't want it any other way.





	1. Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about because my friend and I are *slightly* obsessed with the idea of the glamour of old-school Las Vegas. A simple chat about our week-long Vegas vacation in 2001 and how we were born in the wrong era which devolved into a fantasy about us owning a casino/brothel in 1959 Las Vegas which devolved into a joint story-writing venture.

New Jersey, 1955

John White pushed his way through the hugging, laughing, crying crowd of his classmates to the petite brunette with the horn-rimmed glasses who was obviously looking for him. He caught her eye and smiled. She grinned back and waved.

“John!” she called, waving again.

“Hey, Kathleen,” he said.

Kathleen Flynn threw her arms around John’s shoulders, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“We’ve graduated!” she said happily.

John smiled, a little more subdued. “We have.”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” Kathleen downshifted her exuberance immediately and pouted cutely. “ _College boy_.”

John chucked Kathleen under the chin. “You could go to college too, you know.”

Kathleen’s eyes darkened. “You know my dad won’t let me go.”

“Your dad’s a jerk, Kathleen,” John told her.

Kathleen’s smile came back just as sunny as before, but John knew it was fake. He could always tell when she was faking anything: a smile, a story, a tear. As well as John knew Kathleen, Kathleen knew John. She saw through the charm, the charisma, the bravado to the real John underneath.

“You’re my best friend, John,” Kathleen was saying.

John snapped back to reality. All around them, the hubbub of their graduating class was ebbing away, finding their ways to departing cars filled with excited family members. Finally, the only people left belonged to John and Kathleen: John’s parents and younger brother, Kathleen’s parents and her boyfriend.

John looked over Kathleen’s head at her boyfriend, Richie Robertson. He had graduated the year before and came back to town during a college break and pursued Kathleen like his life depended on it. John was immediately suspicious of Richie’s motives, but Kathleen was dazzled at being chased after by a former Big Man on Campus and now college student. It didn’t take long before Kathleen’s parents were _un_ -inviting John to dinner and _in_ viting Richie. Despite her whirlwind romance and new beau, Kathleen was doggedly loyal to her best friend, John White.

“Richie doesn’t look very happy at us talking,” John commented mildly.

“You could care less what Richie thinks,” Kathleen said, shoving his arm.

John pushed Kathleen’s glasses up her nose. “I’m gonna miss you, Kathleen.”

“We have all summer!” Kathleen protested. “Why are you acting like you’re going to leave for college tomorrow?”

“We both have jobs and you have --” John waved his hand at Richie, who bristled at the blase acknowledgement “-- _that_.”

Kathleen’s pointy chin set stubbornly. “Don’t call him ‘that,’ John.”

John snorted. “I can call him whatever I want. He’s an asshole, Kathleen, and you’re better than him.”

Kathleen narrowed her dark eyes at her best friend. “Don’t start a fight now.”

John shrugged, noticing that his father was looking his watch pointedly. John ignored his father to leave Kathleen with a snappy parting shot.

“You’re an unborn kitten, Kathleen,” John told her, making her grin.

“And you’re a nerdy spaz, John,” Kathleen shot back.

The two friends paused a minute, then laughed, and hugged. Kathleen held onto John’s graduation gown longer than she thought she should in front of her parents and boyfriend.

“I love you,” she whispered fiercely into his chest.

John kissed the top of her head. “I love you too.”

John and Kathleen broke their hug and took a few steps away from each other.

“Why do I feel like I’m never going to see you again?” Kathleen asked.

John shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. But you will.”

Kathleen’s face sagged for a split second, then her chipper, but phony, smile was back with blinding brilliance. John marveled at her resilience.

“Yeah, you will,” she said. “Don’t we have a reunion in five years?”

John chuckled. “I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”

Kathleen gave John a playful punch in the arm. “I’ll bake you a pie.”

“Good God, please don’t.” John shuddered.

“Kathleen!” Richie Robertson’s voice barked across the football field at them.

John glared over Kathleen at Richie Robertson again. Richie Robertson returned the glare.

“You better go before his flat-top bursts into flames,” John advised her.

Kathleen glanced over her shoulder at her family and her boyfriend. When she turned back to John, her eyes glittered with tears.

“Have I told you that I’m going to miss you yet?” Kathleen asked.

“You haven’t.”

“Have I told you that I love you?” Kathleen asked next.

“You have.”

“I love you.”

John squeezed Kathleen’s hand. “I know. Now get to moving along, doll.”

Kathleen turned and started walking away. She looked over her shoulder and waved again.

“Bye,” she called softly.

“Bye.” John waved back briefly.

Kathleen picked her gown up a few inches and scurried across the field to her waiting family. While John watched, Richie Robertson grabbed Kathleen’s upper arm and gave it a hard shake while her parents’ backs were turned. Kathleen visibly cringed. It took a decent amount of resolve for John to not bolt over to them and clock Richie Robertson out cold.

When John finally caught up with his family by his father’s Studebaker, Mr. White eyed his son shrewdly.

“That’s a good girl you’re letting get away, son,” Mr. White said.

“Not this again, Pop,” John groaned, even though he knew his father was right.

“I really do like Kathleen,” Mrs. White commented mildly.

“Mom, please.” John settled into the backseat of his parent’s car.

“Mrs. Flynn tells me that Richie Robertson has already asked Mr. Flynn for his permission to marry Kathleen,” Mrs. White said next.

John sat up. “That can’t be right.”

Mr. White glanced back at his eldest son. “Don’t start thinking about girls with your whole future ahead of you.”

John’s younger brother snickered. “John’s always thinking about girls.”

John rewarded his brother with a hard punch to the shoulder. “Zip it.”

“I’m sure you’ll see Kathleen when you come home on break,” Mrs. White loudly interrupted her sons’ fight.

John shrugged noncommittally and looked out the window, putting Kathleen out of his head and thought about the graduation party he was going to be attending later.

It would be four years before John White and Kathleen Flynn saw each other again.


	2. Chapter 2

Kathleen Robertson, nee Flynn, pushed the vacuum cleaner over her already spotless living room carpet. She had been through the house with a fine-tooth comb and couldn't find a speck of dirt, but Richie Robertson swore the place was a pigsty before he left for work that morning and demanded she clean it up. After 2 years of marriage, Kathleen had learned not to argue with Richie.

Paying no mind to her reflection in the living room mirror, Kathleen bumped the vacuum down the hallway next, her face blank but her mind racing. Still open on the kitchen table was the Monday edition of the newspaper she'd fished out of the garbage. She had been reading and re-reading and crying over the same obituary since Monday, despite Richie's growing annoyance. She could recite the first paragraph by rote:

"Mr. John M. White, Sr., 53, has passed away. It happened quickly and quietly over the weekend. He is survived by his wife, Susan, and two sons, John and --"

Tears dripped down Kathleen's cheeks and she didn't bother to wipe them away. It was Saturday, the day of Mr. White's funeral. Everyone she knew was going to be there, except her. Richie had forbade her from leaving the house.

Marriage had not been kind to Kathleen. Married two years after high school when Richie was a junior at college, Kathleen had spent 5 months in wedded bliss, setting up their trim little house in Lynwood Court, the new development. Her parents had helped them buy the house as a wedding gift and Kathleen had played at being a housewife until reality started to set in: hours and hours of mind-numbing boredom, wandering around the house, cleaning things that were already clean, followed by hours of walking on eggshells around her husband.

Richie Robertson was cruel. The cruelty started slowly: mean looks and snide comments, but soon the threats started. Fists waved in Kathleen's face, being shoved, arms gripped, dragged around a room by her wrist. But it was when Richie knocked his dinner plate to the kitchen floor, then grabbed her by the back of her neck, and forced her to her knees so she could see how awful his dinner was close up that Kathleen knew she was in trouble. The next day, she fled to her parents' house for sanctuary.

"What did you do to make him so angry?" Mr. Flynn asked.

Kathleen looked up from her hanky, shocked. "Nothing, Daddy."

Mr. Flynn set his lips in a thin line and crossed his arms over his chest. "You must have done something."

"I -- I made him dinner," Kathleen stammered out, looking to her mother for support.

"Maybe you should learn to cook better," Mr. Flynn said.

"Daddy!" Kathleen cried out, aghast.

"Go home, Kathleen," Mrs. Flynn said suddenly. "Go home and wait for your husband."

"Mother--" Kathleen began desperately.

"And don't give him a reason to hit you anymore," Mrs. Flynn added before leaving the room.

Mr. Flynn opened his newspaper, effectively ending the conversation. Kathleen looked into the kitchen, where her mother was, and across the living room to her father. Were they ... were they really not going to help her? Silently, Kathleen got up and left, going home to wait for her husband. Richie was there when she arrived. He was furious that she hadn't been there and his fists let her know that in no uncertain terms.

Kathleen stowed the vacuum away, then headed to the kitchen to wipe down the appliances again. Richie owned the only appliance store in town, so Kathleen's kitchen was stocked with the most modern conveniences. The only caveat was that Richie inspected the appliances every night so make sure she was taking care of them properly. One of the most recent smacks to the face was when Richie found spaghetti sauce dried on the stove top.

In contrast to the pristinely-kept inside of the ranch, the exterior was a disaster.  The bushes and shrubs were overgrown, leaves littering the lawn, shutters with broken slats. The whole house needed to be scraped and re-painted. The storm door had fallen off its hinges and was behind the bushes in front of the house.

The newspaper on the table caught Kathleen eye again and she sank into the chair again to read it. Again. Mr. White smiled up at her from his obituary and Kathleen smiled back sadly. He was a sweet man, a little rough, but kind as the day is long. His construction company had built her development. Kathleen wondered idly if John had helped build her house the summer before he left for college. Just the thought of her long-lost best friend was enough to well more tears up in Kathleen's eyes.

Swiping her hand over her wet cheeks, Kathleen glanced up at the clock. Richie closed the store in an hour, which meant he was on the doorstep in an hour and a half. Just enough time to scrub down the bathroom again and change out of her old brown dress into something pretty. Richie liked pretty, clean things.

Halfway down the hall to the bathroom, a loud knock on the front door brought Kathleen up short. Richie didn't knock and she'd already let her neighbors know she wasn't going to be able to socialize. Pausing, her stomach in a knot, Kathleen's fingers touched the side of her face gingerly.

_ Answer the door, Kathleen,  _ she thought.

Straightening her shoulders, Kathleen marched over to the front door.

"Can I help you?" she asked through the door.

"Kathleen?" a familiar voice asked. "Is that you?"

Kathleen froze, her heart in her throat. John. It was John. After being gone for four years, John White was on the other side of her front door.

"I'm sorry, John," Kathleen said, her voice shaking. "I'm in no fit state to entertain guests."

"Kathleen Flynn, you open this goddamn door right now," John demanded.

"No, John, I'm sorry," Kathleen replied. "I can't."

"Kathleen!" John's tone was furious. "Let me in. Now."

"John ... I can't ..." Kathleen's tears choked her.

"I will break this door down, Kathleen," John told her, jiggling the doorknob.

Kathleen's need to see her friend overwhelmed her fear of her husband.

"Fine!" she snapped and whipped the door open.

Her spite died immediately at the sight of John on her front stoop. He was dressed in a fine black suit, as was befitting of his father's funeral, but wore a smart-looking grey fedora at a rakish angle. He was tan and, despite the stress of his family situation, looked well-rested. John White still a cut an amazing figure.

“Hi,” Kathleen managed to get out.

“What the hell happened to your face?” John demanded without preamble.

John pushed his way into the house while Kathleen tried to push him back out.

“Get out! You can’t come in! Richie will --” she exclaimed.

“What?” John grabbed Kathleen’s chin and turned her head to the side. “Bust up the other side of your face?”

The right side of Kathleen’s face was a mottled discordance of bruises, new and old. The corner of her mouth was split with a cut to her chin. Her right eye was rimmed with black and colored red with burst blood vessels.

John dropped his hand. “How long has he been doing this?”

“It’s not that bad,” Kathleen replied.

“Are you kidding me, Kathleen?” John was floored. “I’ve seen boxers less mangled than you!”

John grasped Kathleen’s wrists and pulled her arms out. They were ringed with finger-shaped bruises. John dropped her arms and Kathleen crossed them over her chest to ineffectually hide them. John took his hat off, tossing it on the sofa. He ran his hand over his face, trying to gather his thoughts.  

“Do your parents know?” he finally asked.

“I tried to get them to help me,” Kathleen heard herself confess. “But they sent me back here. I’m his wife. I belong here.”

“You belong anywhere but here and he belongs in the ground,” John replied fiercely.

“You have to leave,” Kathleen said, looking fearfully at the clock. 

John followed her gaze. “How long ‘til he gets here, Kathleen?”

Kathleen turned her battered face back to her best friend. “45 minutes.”

John tucked Kathleen’s arm through his. “C’mon, Kitten. I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

Kathleen let herself be lead into the kitchen reluctantly. 

“If he catches you, John …” she tried again.

John sat Kathleen down at the table, smiling down at her easily. “Don’t you worry about me.”

Kathleen and John sat at the table together silently, coffee going cold in front of them. The sun started to set, lighting up the room in golds and reds. Kathleen started to get up to turn on a light, but John caught her by the hand, shaking his head a little. Kathleen sat back down, John still holding her hand gently.

The front door opening made Kathleen almost leap to her feet. John’s hand was still holding hers. 

“No, Kathleen,” John whispered.

“John--” Kathleen whispered back.

“ Damn it, woman!” Richie bellowed from the living room. “Can’t you even turn on a light?”

The living room light came on and the sounds of Richie moving around stopped. Kathleen stopped breathing as John squeezed her hand and stood up.  Kathleen’s emotions were all over her face, a mix of fear, happiness, excitement, and joy.  Every one of them visible to John as he stood over her.

“Kathleen!” Richie yelled suddenly. “Who the hell’s hat is this?”

Kathleen jerked her head up to stare at John in terror. John held his finger to his lips, then reached and cupped her cheek.  

“It'll be fine,” he whispered and stepping away from her and out of the kitchen, a hand lingering across her trembling shoulders as he walked away.

Entering the living room, an icy smile spread across John’s face.

“Hey, Richie,” he said loudly.

Richie turned and saw a stranger in his living room. Richie’s shock and rage was palpable.

“Who the fuck -- ?” Richie began

John closed the distance between Richie and himself in two quick strides and grabbed Richie by his shirtfront, catching Richie off-guard with a quick punch to the throat. Richie crumbled to the carpet, grasping his throat with both hands. The only thing keeping him from completely hitting the floor was John’s grip on his shirt.

John reached into his jacket and pulled the Colt Python handgun from his holster as Richie struggled for breath.  

“John! What are you doing?” Kathleen screamed from the doorway of the kitchen as John pressed the barrel against Richie’s left temple.  

“You’ve hurt her for the last time,” John told Richie with steel in his voice, cold and calculating, no emotion what so ever.  

John grabbed Richie by the hair and pushed him onto the sofa, slamming him against the back of the couch, pressing the pistol against the side of his head. 

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Richie blubbered through a haze of mortifying tears, his voice hoarse from John’s punch. “I didn’t mean it--”

A small whimper from the direction of the kitchen stilled John from pulling the trigger. He looked at Kathleen, battered, bruised, and absolutely horrified.  No longer the innocent young girl John once knew, but not ready to witness someone executed.  No matter  _ what _ that someone had done to her. 

John released the Colt’s trigger and slammed the butt against Richie’s temple, knocking the bastard out cold. John hit him a second time for good measure.

“Pack a bag, Kathleen,” John said, turning to his white-faced best friend as he reholstered his Colt. “We’re going to say goodbye to your parents and then you’re coming with me.”


	3. Chapter 3

John and Kathleen went to Mr. and Mrs. Flynn’s house so Kathleen could say goodbye. John took that time to pull Mr. Flynn aside while Kathleen spoke to her mother.  

“I’m going to take care of her,” John said. “I’ll make sure she writes to you both often, but she’s not going to tell you where we are. Just know that I’m taking care of her from now on.”  

“John,” Mr. Flynn said, “I can’t let you take my little girl without me knowing your intentions.”  

John laughed. Mr. Flynn’s face quickly went from distraught to furious.

“My intention is to give her the life _you_ wouldn’t allow her.” Icy anger began to creep into John’s low voice. “To keep her safe. To protect her. Let her make her own choices. To teach her what real affection is … ” His speech trailed off as Mr. Flynn’s face went thoughtful.

“John,” Mr. Flynn said. Kathleen and Mrs. Flynn turned their attention to the men. “I meant: How you were going to live? We have a little money saved up that I can give--” Mr Flynn stopped short as John waved him off.

“I don’t need your money,” John replied. “My brother and I settled our parents’ estate. I have more than we’ll ever need. We’re going to go west.” He looked over at Kathleen and took a step in her direction, slipping his arm around her waist. “We’re leaving in a minute. Kathleen, I’ll meet you in the car.”

He extended his right hand to Mr. Flynn. They shook hands like equals for the first and last time.

Kathleen hurriedly said her good-byes and rushed excitedly down the stoop to the passenger side of the car. John swung the door from the inside and Kathleen slid in, grinning from ear to ear.  A real smile for probably the first time in a long time and John could see the relief in her eyes.

John pulled away to start the long drive to Washington, DC before heading west. They’d barely made it out of town before Kathleen slid across the seat and curled back into her familiar position with her head on John’s shoulder. John wrapped his arm around Kathleen, pulling her closer.

Kathleen fell asleep easily in John’s warm embrace before making it through Philadelphia.  John was afraid to move his arm or adjust his position.  

 _She needs a long rest,_ he thought, but silently wished she would wake up so they could talk.  

John had a lot to tell Kathleen about his life that she was going to start finding out one way or the other. The last thing John wanted to do was scare Kathleen, especially after what she’d been dealing with for the past two years.

“Kitten? Wake up.”

A nudge and a small shake woke Kathleen gently as John turned off the car. The way Kathleen’s head popped up off his shoulder told John that she’d want to talk the night away, even if she wasn't quite awake yet.

“Just go with the flow until we get inside, okay?”  he requested.

“What are you talking about?” Kathleen asked, her voice still sleepy as she rubbed her eyes under her glasses.

A tall man in a brown suit opened John’s door and held an umbrella over John as it started to rain hard.

“She has bags in the trunk.” John slid out of the car. “We’ll be leaving early in the morning and I’d like you to accompany us to the airport.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Bianco,” the other man replied immediately.

Kathleen looked at John as she crossed the seat to slip out of the open driver’s side door. She smiled curiously, mildly understanding the reference but not the gravity of it. John extended his hand, helping Kathleen from the car. The large man holding the umbrella walked them into the building, covering them with the umbrella and getting himself soaked in the process.

John handed the large man the car keys as they reached the entrance to the building. Another man inside the building opened the door.

“Paulie, are we all set for tomorrow?” John asked the second man as he walks past.

“Yes, Mr. Bianco,” Paulie, a burly man several inches taller than John with the telltale smashed nose of a boxer, replied with a good-natured smile as he glanced between John and Kathleen.

Kathleen looked up at John’s profile, intrigued, as they walk arm in arm through the vestibule. Kathleen took in the fine furnishings and the well-dressed residents in the lobby. Tugging at the front of her plain beige coat, Kathleen felt woefully shabby and out-of-place. John didn’t seem to notice. And neither did the other people in the vestibule, who deferred to him and greeted him cordially.  

 _He must be doing better than he lets on if he can afford all this,_ Kathleen thought as they waited for the elevator.

John caught Kathleen looking up at him and gave her a grin. “You cool, Kathleen?”

“Something you want to fill me in on?” Kathleen asked, giving his arm a shake as she gestured to the ornate lobby surrounding them with her other hand.

John kissed her temple. “Yeah. But not here.”

Paulie joined them in the elevator, pressing the penthouse floor button. The elevator doors opened and the trio stepped into the vestibule of the penthouse. Kathleen let out a small gasp at the opulence.

“Wow,” she whispered as she walked into the living room, trying to take it all in. “No wonder he didn’t come home much.”

“Kitten, you need to give me a minute or so to I discuss a little business with Paulie,” John said as he took her coat. Without breaking eye contact with Kathleen, he handed her coat off to Paulie, who hurried to hang it up. “Help yourself to anything you wish. The bar is right over there. We’ll talk when I’m done.”

“Am I gonna need a drink for this talk?” Kathleen asked, feeling a small nugget of dread start to pool in her belly. It was the same kind of dread she would get when Richie’s baseball team would lose a game and the blame would fall on her instead of the team’s bullpen.

John regarded her affectionately before holding up two fingers. “Two minutes, Kathleen. Then I’ll explain everything. Promise.”

He turned and walked away, snapping his fingers quickly to grab Paulie’s attention.

“Paulie?” he said sharply, grabbing Paulie’s focus from his boss and his boss’s new girl to the business at hand. “I need you to do the following for me by 6:30 tomorrow morning.”

“Whatever you need, Boss,” Paulie replied, taking a piece of paper from John without reading it.

“Good. Now, good night.” John dismissed the burly man with a wave of his hand.

“That’s it?” Paulie asked, confused. “Are you sure -- ”

John leveled the larger man with a cold stare. “Good night, Paulie.”

Paulie broke eye contact, finding his brown shoes more interesting than his boss and the girl.

“Yessir,” he said contritely. “6.30 am.”

“And have Gene here by 9.00 am to take us to the airport,” John ordered.

Paulie nodded, barely perceptible, before hastening away. The closing elevator doors make a soft, swishing sound, leaving the two friends alone in the penthouse. John turned to face Kathleen, smiling, but his grin dropped away quickly when he saw the look on Kathleen’s face.

“What. The. Hell?” Kathleen’s voice shot across the room at John like a bullet.

Gone was the meek girl who had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the car. Back was the girl he’d known since the 7th grade. The one with the sharpest tongue hidden behind the most innocent face.

“Now, Kitten--” John began, holding his hands up as he made his way to her.

“Don’t you ‘Kitten’ me, John White,” Kathleen said sharply. “Or should I say ‘Mr. Bianco’?”

“Kathleen, sit down. Let me explain,” John said, keeping his voice even.

“What is going on here?” Kathleen demanded, stamping her foot.

“If you’d stop flapping your yap for five minutes, I could tell you!” John exclaimed.

Kathleen flinched back, a dark shadow of fear flashing over her face. John was immediately contrite and was in front of her in a minute, gathering her up in his arms. Kathleen was stiff in his embrace and John cursed himself for losing his temper.

 _Kid gloves, buddy. She’s delicate,_ he reminded himself.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” John said quietly.

“I think I may take that drink now,” Kathleen said just as quietly.

John settled Kathleen onto the white sofa and poured her a bourbon, neat. Handing it to her, he offered her a cigarette from the case in his suit pocket. Kathleen declined and sipped her drink, eyeing John as he unbuttoned his jacket and sat down on the sofa next to her.

“Let me see your gun,” Kathleen finally said.

Raising his eyebrows, John pulled his gun from its holster and held it out in the palm of his hand toward her. Kathleen looked at it for a minute, stroking the dark grey barrel with one finger. Then she looked up at him, her lips twisted a little, making the dimple in right cheek stand out.

“Okay,” she said. “Tell me everything.”

John laid the gun on the coffee table. Lighting a cigarette to settle _his_ suddenly jangled nerves, he inhaled deeply before answering.

“You sure?” he asked.

Kathleen rolled her eyes as she let out a short, annoyed sigh. John laughed at this typical Kathleen reaction.

“If I’m running off with you to who-knows-where, I need to know everything.” Kathleen shot John a teasing look. “ _Mr. Bianco._ ”

“Fine. And no interrupting.” John pointed at Kathleen, who placed both hands over her heart in a supplicant “Who me?” gesture. John drew in another deep pull off his cigarette before starting his story.

Building houses with his dad’s construction company introduced John to a slightly seamier side of the working world. Lumber and labor suppliers never seemed to be completely on the up-and-up, but John couldn’t put his finger on why or how. It wasn’t until one afternoon while he was cooking the books and got a visit from an inspector looking for a hefty bribe that John learned the truth: Most of the guys his father dealt with on a daily basis in the construction game were low-level hoods. Once that realization dawned on him, John saw them in a different light: Instead of being annoyed that they showed up late in fancy cars and barely worked, John was _jealous_ that they showed up late in fancy cars and barely worked. The girls who came to the sites to visit or bring lunch were always top-quality with the best curves and the greatest legs. And not one of them gave John the time of day, of course.

The last week before John was due to leave for college, one of the girls approached him for a light. More than happy to oblige, John lit her cigarette and turned on his charm. It wasn’t long before he had the girl laughing and flirting back, much to the anger of her boyfriend, who glared at John from across the site. After work, the hood and his friends tried to give him the beating of his life, but ended up with a few wounds of their own.

“I like you,” one of them said. “Come meet our boss.”

And, just like that, John was invited into the inner circle of the small time gangster who ran the construction racket. It only took one meeting with the construction boss before John was offered a job.

“I’m going to college,” John said with buckets more conviction than he felt.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, kid,” the gangster told him, sounding more like a movie gangster than a real one. “Everyone out west is striking it big. Just like in the Gold Rush.”

It took John about three minutes to make up his mind. So, instead of packing up his bags for college, John White packed up his bags for Las Vegas.

“Las Vegas?” Kathleen interrupted, sounding shocked. She placed her empty glass on the table next to the Colt, which she touched again, less tentative this time.

“What did I say?” John teased lightly as he picked up her glass to refill.

“Sorry.” Kathleen’s smile was genuine and adorable as she took her glass back. “Please go on.”

With his first semester tuition money in his pocket and the address of a bar on Fremont Street, John arrived in Las Vegas, a little lost and a lot shell-shocked. The bar turned out to not only be a bar, but also a front for a pretty intense bookmaking ring. John’s head for numbers had him go from runner for the bookie to keeping the numbers straight in less than six months.

“I don’t just wanna run numbers,” the bookie said out of nowhere one night.

John looked over from the chalkboard to where the fat bookie was sitting. “No?”

“Nah, I wanna branch out. Do something else. Like girls.”

John furrowed his brow. “Girls?”

“Yeah. Hookers,” the bookie replied.

John felt a hot flush on his cheeks and turned back to the board so his boss couldn’t see it.

“Whattya think, Johnny?” the bookie asked. “Is girls a good idea?”

“If you say so, boss,” John answered immediately.

“Good.” The bookie snapped his fingers. “Go find us some girls.”

“Me?” John dropped his chalk.

“Yeah.” The bookie’s small, piggish eyes narrowed. “Girls love you. You find me some good ones.”

Kathleen’s hands were clenched around her glass, making her knuckles as white as the couch, as John finished his story with,

“And that’s how I became a pimp.”

John looked up at Kathleen, who wasn’t even trying to hide the appalled look on her face.

“Kathleen?” John asked, reaching out for her wrist.

“I think …” Kathleen began in a shaky voice, pulling her hands out of John’s reach. “I think …”

“Yeah?”

“I think I need another fucking drink.”

Kathleen got up and stumbled to the bar to pour herself another bourbon. Splashing it across her hand, Kathleen downed it like a shot before pouring another and turning to face John, who was waiting calmly on the couch for her to regain her composure.

“Okay, so, you’re a ... a ... pimp,” Kathleen repeated the word like she didn’t actually believe it unless she said it out loud. “Then what happened?”

“Not much.” John shrugged negligently. “I found Gene and Paulie to help me with the girls. The bookie still runs his numbers and the bar. I pay him a fee to run my girls out of his bar. Everybody wins.”

“How did you become Mr. Bianco?” Kathleen asked. She was leaning against the bar on her elbows. She had kicked off her pumps and was barefoot, her hair falling over her shoulders. After dealing with hookers for three years, being faced with that kind of innocence was like a drug for John. The only thing that spoiled the illusion was the battered right side of Kathleen’s face.

“One of the girls thought I needed a more ‘mobster’ name.” John made air quotes at the word ‘mobster’ before crushing his cigarette out. “And she’s a good Italian Catholic, so I let her pick it out. Now I’m Giovanni Bianco. It means--”

“John White,” Kathleen interrupted. “My mom’s Italian too, remember?”

“How can I forget?” John winked at his best friend. “You know I have a thing for little Italian brunettes.”

Kathleen laughed, but it cut off in the middle by a yawn.

“I think I need to sleep some more,” she confessed.

“Good idea, “ John agreed. “We have a flight to Chicago in the morning.”

“What are we doing in Chicago?” Kathleen asked.

John looked away from her for a minute before answering, “You’re going shopping for some new clothes and I have some business to attend to.”

“What kind of business?” Kathleen asked.

John paused as he picked up his gun. “Kathleen, if this is gonna work, you can’t ask me stuff like that.”

“But--” Kathleen began.

John held up his hand, silencing her. “Kitten, please?”

Four years of submissive silence washed over Kathleen and she nodded, looking at her feet.

“Now,” John said in a cheerful tone, “let’s get you into bed.”

Kathleen’s head shot up. “I can’t sleep with--”

“I know,” John agreed. “I have a whole bedroom for you to use. Private.”

Kathleen’s worried expression dropped away as John led her to a large bedroom with a larger bed. Flicking on the light, he motioned over the room with a lordly wave.

“All for you,” he said grandly. “At least for tonight.”

Kathleen slipped her arms around John’s waist and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him gently on the mouth. Her lips tasted like her bourbon, warm and spicy with hints of caramel and vanilla. John wanted to crush her against his chest and kiss her hard enough to make her whimper, but he controlled himself just enough before Kathleen let him go.

“Good night, John,” she whispered, her lips still against his a little. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Kitten,” he replied softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

As innocent as that exchange was, the look Kathleen gave John over her shoulder as she closed the door after her was so sexy, John actually wondered for a second if she didn’t want him to follow her to the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

John woke early and met Paulie in the vestibule to the penthouse.  

“Paulie,” he said with a lower whisper than necessary. “Is everything set for today’s meeting with the bosses?”   

Paulie nodded his head. 

“And everything else too, Boss,” he replied in as much of a whisper as he could manage. “Breakfast is ordered. I’m gonna grab it in 10 minutes. The makeup lady will be here at 8:00. And she’ll have the clothes for your lady. Gene’ll be here at 8:45 so we can leave at 9:00.”

John nodded his head slightly. Like always, Paulie took care of everything exactly as John told him to. Not a single detail was missed. Paulie smiled proudly as John extended his hand and shook it firmly. 

“Well done as always, Paulie,” John said with a serious tone.  “You are as loyal as any man in my position could hope for. So I ask you for another favor.” John paused, wondering how he should explain his next statement before deciding to go all in with, “I need you to protect Kathleen with your life, if needs be.”  

Paulie tried not to look surprised as he obviously thought of a reply. His massive brow furrowed for the right words to say. 

“Boss, I’m -- I’m honored,” he paused for a second longer than normal. “And I ain’t questioning your orders, but … uh ... I just want to know who she is … ” 

Paulie stammered to a stop as John regarded Paulie's discomfort. A wry smile cracked the mask of John’s face.

“She’s my biggest regret, Paulie,” John said. “We’ve got a long history together. I found her back in our hometown married to an abusive jackass. I taught him a lesson about hitting women.”  John’s smile widened. “Like you usually do.”

Paulie looked confused at John’s personal confession, something that had never happened before between them.

“Thanks, Boss, I guess.” He checked his watch. “I gotta go get breakfast.” 

Paulie turned and pushed the elevator button as John walked back inside the apartment.

John checked his watch as he paced back and forth.  It was 8:40 and the makeup girls were still in with Kathleen.

_ I knew I should have had them start earlier, _ he thought to himself as the door to the bedroom opened up.  

Kathleen stood in the doorway, holding onto the doorjamb to steady herself on her new shoes. John started from her white pumps and worked his way up passed the light pink pencil skirt that hugged her curves perfectly, over the white blouse that showed just enough cleavage to turn a head a second time. He paused as he saw her face, perfectly done up.  Not too much paint and yet not a single mark that Richie made was visible. The bright red lipstick even expertly covered the split in the corner of her mouth. John’s jaw dropped. Kathleen was a stunner.

“Uh … We ... uh …” he cleared his throat before composing himself. “It’s time for us to get going. You ready, Kitten?”

Kathleen let out a peal of laughter at John’s complete inability to hold a thought. “I guess I don’t have to ask if I look alright.”

She strutted passed John, hooking her finger under his tie and pulling it out of his jacket, on her way to the elevator.  

John shook his head, holding back another need to clear his throat as he muttered, “Certainly not.”

He pulled a brand new coat out of the closet for her. It was a dark walnut color that only accentuated the lighter colors of her outfit and matched her hair perfectly. John held open the coat and Kathleen slid into it.

“It’s a bit brisk out this morning,”  he said as he pulled it over her shoulders. His hands lingered on her shoulders as Kathleen adjusted the coat around her waist, pulling the belt tight. She reached for a brown velvet hat, but John stopped her. “No, Kitten. No hats. Hats are for old ladies.” 

Kathleen pulled her hair from under the coat, leaving the hat on the table, as the elevator arrived. To her mild surprise, Paulie was inside.

“Good morning, Paulie,” Kathleen said pleasantly. Paulie, very aware of his newest job of Guarding The Boss’ Lady, barely nodded at her and kept his face stoic. 

Paulie held open the door with his arm as John and Kathleen stepped inside. As the elevator got to the lobby, Paulie stepped out first and led the way to the car parked out front. The people milling about the lobby smiled and nodded at the trio, shooting curious glances at the glamor-puss Mr. Bianco had with him. Gene was waiting by the rear door and opened it as John and Kathleen stepped out of the building.  

“Mr. Bianco,” Gene greeted them, trying hard not to stare as Kathleen slid into the back of the Cadillac. “We’ll be at the airport in 25 minutes.” 

John nodded. “Thank you, Gene.”

John joined Kathleen in the backseat as Paulie and Gene took up the front with their massive bulk. Kathleen twisted her white gloves between her fingers, trying not to meet John’s gaze. You’d have to be blind and five states away to miss that there was something wrong with Kathleen.  

“Kitten? You feeling decent?” John whispered in her ear as they approached the airport.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said through clenched teeth, still not looking at him.  

John reached out and took her hand with a chuckle. “Liar.”

“You always know,” she said again this time with a bit of a laugh. She held onto his hand tightly.  

“What’s the problem then?” John asked, putting his other hand over hers.

“I’ve never seen a plane up close. Let alone  _ flown _ in one,” she said, sounding a little more than just apprehensive. “I’m just a little nervous.”  

“Kitten,” John said softly, “it’s like riding in a car. At 30,000 feet. While they serve booze.”

The car pulled up to the curb and Paulie hopped out. He opened the rear door and waited for John to slide out before heading back to the trunk for Kathleen’s bags. John extended his hand to assist Kathleen from the car. Kathleen clutched at John’s arm with a vise-like grip.

“Kitten, trust me. You are going to be fine.” John loosened Kathleen’s fingers from digging into his forearm. “Not just on the flight to Chicago either.”

Kathleen’s face relaxed a little as they walked through the airport, holding his arm like she did when they first met and nearly scandalized everyone with their friendship. She was getting that playful smile on her face just like she did back then too. John sighed, satisfied that  _ his _ Kathleen was breaking through the crumbled shell of  _ that _ Kathleen.

The excitement of starting something new was overcoming any fear Kathleen may have had over flying or moving away from everything she’s known. John simply had a way about him that was so comforting and familiar, even though they hadn’t seen each other in four years and his profession was obviously different and dangerous. Despite this, or because of this, Kathleen was happy for the first time in years and knew only John could make her feel this way so easily.

“As long as I’m with you I have no doubts,” Kathleen said, smiling up at John.

After boarding the plane, John and Kathleen took their places in luxury class while Paulie and Gene stayed in tourist. The flight to Chicago was uneventful and John and Kathleen sipped cocktails and ate a light meal in the  Stratocruiser’s lower level lounge while they talked about old times. John refused to talk about his business in Chicago with Kathleen, despite her insistence, promising they would have more then enough time to talk about the future before getting to Las Vegas. After the plane landed at Chicago’s new O’Hare Airport, John and Kathleen walked through the terminal where somehow Paulie was waiting with two taxis to take the foursome into the city. Gene was still fetching the bags and they waited at the cab stand for a few moments for him to arrive. He loaded up the front cab with the bags and John and Kathleen climbed into the second taxi while Paulie stood over them protectively.

“Kathleen,” John whispered in her ear once they were settled, “when we get to the hotel, you’re going to go with Paulie.”  

“Why?” Kathleen protested. “Where will you be?”

“Because that’s what I need you to do until I’m done.” John’s tone brokered no argument. Kathleen’s eyes narrowed a little and John took her hand to stave off another protest. “Paulie is going to take you to a few shops in the city and I’m going to meet you for lunch.” He raised her hand up to his mouth and kissed her palm gently. “Trust me, Kitten.”

Kathleen inhaled audibly, holding her breath while John’s lips caressed her palm. Kathleen inched closer to John, resting her cheek on his shoulder while he held her hand in his against his chest. Kathleen wondered idly if John was wearing his gun under his suit coat. They sat like that until the cab pulled over in front of a large office building. A doorman came out and opened the cab door. John stepped out as Paulie hurried from his cab to open Kathleen’s door. He offered his hand and she accepted it, sliding out of the cab and onto the curb. Kathleen winked up at the tall man.

“I guess you’re going to show me around for a little bit, Paulie?” she asked.

“Yes, miss,” he said, looking at John to gauge how his boss reacted to Kathleen’s wink. To Paulie’s relief, John was speaking quietly to Gene and hadn’t noticed. Paulie let out a short rush of relieved breath. “Right this way, miss.”

Kathleen glanced over at John as Paulie took her elbow and began to walk her away. But John’s attention was on the many-storied office building in front of him. Kathleen could see he was nervous. She let Paulie lead her away as  John and Gene walked into the office building and up to the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Dominic Setaro,” John announced, all trace of the nervousness Kathleen had seen now hidden behind a stern mask.

The receptionist had worked for Dominic Setaro long enough to not question who had a meeting with him, but John was considerably younger than anyone who had a scheduled meeting directly with Dominic Setaro.

The receptionist looked at him curiously. “Name?”

“Giovanni Bianco,” he said loud enough for everyone in the vestibule to hear him.  

The receptionist flipped through her logbook and smiled as she found the name. She picked up the phone and buzzed back to security, announcing John to whomever she was speaking to. She motioned for them to walk around the corner where two men, in dark suits and about Gene’s size, were waiting for them at the elevators.  

John and Gene walked up as the elevator arrived, but before entering both men were asked to hand over their guns and knives before being frisked. All four men stepped into the elevator with an uneasy tension in the air.

_ If this meeting doesn’t go well, I might never get out of the building alive,  _ John thought as the elevator strained under the weight of all four men to reach their destination. But John immediately pushed that thought from his mind. Not making it out alive wasn’t an option now that he had Kathleen to take care of.

Most men in John’s boss’ position didn’t get an audience with Dominic Setaro. Certainly no one in  _ John’s _ position did. However, John learned a long time ago that charm, persistence, and having the numbers on your side went a long way to getting a guy what he wanted. What John wanted now was permission to do some unprecedented things in Las Vegas. The town was new, the laws were lax, and the business could boom if it was run the way he envisioned. Now he just had to convince Dominic Setaro to do things the complete opposite of how he’s always done them.

John walked into the office fearlessly. Confidence was one thing that he always had no matter the situation and he portrayed it with every step. Gene and the two security guards stood outside the office, one of Dominic Setaro’s men closing the door after John with a soft click. Dominic Setaro, a reedy man of obvious Italian parentage but unfathomable age, eyed John as the younger man approached. 

John walked up to the desk and Dominic Setaro extended John his hand. John took it immediately, kissing the ring worn by the head of his Family as a sign of respect. John took a few steps backwards until he was back in front the massive walnut desk.

“Mr. Setaro,” John said humbly, “thank you for meeting with me. I have a business proposition for you in Las Vegas, but I need your blessing before moving forward.”  

John laid out the plan in great detail to Dominic Setaro, who kept his face impassive. From removing the bookie/bar owner that was there and skimming from the till to redoing the bar into a hotel and casino with the girls staying in the bar to bring additional customers instead of walking the streets. The biggest part of the pitch was going to be getting him to let John be the guy that ran the entire operation in Las Vegas. Luckily, John had all the numbers on his side and knew them inside and out.

After a few moment of silence that made John more than apprehensive, Dominic Setaro made a deep, rumbling sound in his chest and spoke, softly and slowly.

“Mr. Bianco, I agree with your proposal,” the Head of the Family said with a heavy Italian accent. “Gently remove the man there now. What’s his name?” John opened his mouth to reply, but Dominic Setaro waved his hand airily. John clapped his mouth shut again. “No matter. He is of no use any longer. Take his existing property and develop it into the resort you envision. You have three years to repay the loan and send 20% of the profits back to us here in Chicago monthly.” 

Dominic Setaro stood and walked around the desk. John watched in surprise as Dominick Setaro extended his hand. John shook the man’s hand as a partner and not as just an underling that was out of his league. 

“Thank you, Mr. Setaro. I will do exactly that and in less than the three years you so graciously allot.”

“Ah!” Dominic Setaro held up a long hand. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Mr. Bianco. Three years you have and three years you’ll take.”

The meeting was obviously over and John could feel the tension fall from his shoulders. He turned and walked out of the office, the door miraculously opening as he approached it.  Outside the door, Gene was waiting for him, now holding two very large briefcases that John could only assume were full of cash.  

_ Apparently the old man expected me to pitch something like this today, _ he thought as he stepped onto the elevator. _H_ _ ow else did he know to have the cash ready? _

“Gene, you and Paulie are going to fly to Vegas tomorrow morning.” John’s mask broke and he grinned from ear to ear. He didn’t even bother to hide the excitement in his voice. “I’m going to drive there with Kathleen so she can heal completely. Don’t want to give any of the girls the wrong impression when they see her.” 

The elevator doors opened and John walked out of the building in front of Gene and more cash than any one person should be holding in two unlocked briefcases. 

“Take the cases to the room for the night,” John said with a slight lump in his throat, thinking what could happen if Gene got robbed.

Paulie and Kathleen were walking up as John and Gene walked out of the office building. Kathleen was talking while Paulie laughed uproariously. John grinned ruefully at the two of them, wondering what kind of tale Kathleen could be spinning to make his man laugh like that. Paulie noticed Gene and immediately put on a steely face. Kathleen turned her attention toward John, waving a little when she caught his eye. 

The foursome met off to the side of the office building. Paulie looked down at the briefcases in Gene’s hands, his huge face breaking into the crooked grin he makes when he tries to smile. Paulie took a briefcase from Gene, hefting the weight of it. He and Gene exchanged a wordless glance and Paulie could tell that their boss’ meeting was more than successful. John pointed at the case in Gene’s hand, who snapped it open slightly. John helped himself to a few stacks of $100 bills and slips them into an envelope and into his breast pocket. 

“Holy ...” Kathleen watched the exchange with wide eyes and her voice trailed off as John tucked the wad of cash into his pocket. 

“Boys, we’ll see you in Vegas in a couple of days,” John continued, paying Kathleen no mind. “Go have some fun tonight. You fly there in the morning, set some things up for me.”  

“Yes, Boss.” The two men echoed each other and walked off, each carry a briefcase, to a waiting taxi.  

Kathleen jaw was still hanging open. She pointed at the departing cab then at John then back at the now-gone cab. 

“You’re going just let them  _ walk off _ with all that ...” she said, flabbergasted at apparent carelessness with that much money. “Do you even know how  _ much _ they have?”

“Kathleen.” John finally turned to her. “I  _ alway _ s know  _ exactly  _ how much, where it came from, and where it is going.” He offered her his arm. “Now, what do you say you and I spend a small fortune on a new wardrobe for you and then a steak big enough to choke a king?”  

Kathleen took his arm. “If you are going to let me dress like  _ this _ every day,” she motioned up and down with her off hand, “I’ll let you spend any fortune on me.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “No matter how ill-gotten those gains are. Now, let’s go then.”  

With John at her heels, handing out money by the handful, Kathleen spent the afternoon purchasing skirts, blouses, dresses, slacks, makeup, shoes, undergarments, and anything else her eye landed for more than a few minutes. John and Kathleen spend a few minutes glaring at each other over a white ermine stole that Kathleen refused to let him buy, but John wouldn’t take “No” for an answer. When Kathleen finally mentioned that she was dying for a drink, John decided that the shopping trip was done for the day. 

Over a late lunch, John and Kathleen take turns starting sentences they don’t finish. They each knew that this day-length jaunt in Chicago was coming to a close and that meant two things: Kathleen’s old life was truly behind her and their future in Las Vegas loomed heavy on the horizon. 

After finishing their meal, John lead Kathleen around the corner and down the block, carrying all the bags of clothes and other necessities for her future life. The car dealership Gene had told him about was right on the corner, line after line of gleaming new cars shining under the setting sun. 

“Pick a color,” John said.

“What?” Kathleen replied, confused.

“Don’t think about it, Kitten. Just answer. Color.”

“Red,” Kathleen said quickly.

10 minutes later, John settled on the deep red, ‘59 Thunderbird convertible from the back of the lot. John paid cash and loaded the trunk with all the bags while Kathleen watched him, trying not to look astounded while looking utterly astounded, tying a scarf around her hair.

“So, um, did you just decide this morning that you needed a red Thunderbird, John?” Kathleen asked, leaning against the passenger side door.

John grinned around the open trunk at her. “You could say that.”

“You just bought this car in less time than I bought my last pair of shoes,” Kathleen commented as John slammed the trunk shut.

John laughed as he opened the passenger door for her. “That tells me you take too long picking out your shoes.”

“Why  _ did _ you just buy a car anyway?” Kathleen asked, even though she had a feeling she knew the answer already.

“‘cause we’re driving to Vegas.” John sunk into the driver’s seat and started the car.  

“Of course. Why shouldn’t we? I guess that was a stupid question,” Kathleen teased, replacing her eyeglasses with a pair sunglasses.

John winked at her as they pulled out of the lot and he pointed the car west out of Chicago. 

“You ready?” he asked.

Kathleen laughed, shaking her head. “More than you know.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex is had in this chapter. Feel free to skip the sex, but don't skip the chapter. ;)

John woke early the fourth, and final, morning of their drive to Vegas. He stretched a crick out of his back and neck. Route 66 was a pleasant enough road to take cross country, with the scenery and small map dot towns, but the quality of motel mattresses left a lot to be desired.  

He looked at the adjacent bed where Kathleen still lay sleeping. She looked so beautiful in the morning light. Her bruises barely noticeable, even to John, who had been staring at her face for the better part of five days now. He slipped out of bed and into the shower.  

_The only good thing about this hotel room is the water pressure,_ he thought as he toweled off.  

He slipped into his best suit, a black 3-piece, crisp white shirt, and matching black tie. His black fedora with grey band brought the entire outfit together perfectly.

Kathleen started to wake up as John made a little more noise than necessary to ensure she would.  

“Don’t you look nice,” she murmured sleepily, slipping out of bed and tiptoeing gingerly to the bathroom. John heard the water start up again and tried not to focus on the idea of Kathleen in the shower. “Why that suit today, Fancy Pants?” she asked through the closed door.

“We’ll be getting to Vegas after about two more hours on the road,” John answered. “And I’ve got a little surprise for you before we go.”

There was no answer as John heard the spray of the shower change. Kathleen must have ducked in while he was talking without waiting for an answer. Twenty minutes after the water turned off, Kathleen opened the bathroom door. John literally did a double take. In no time flat and in a tiny closet of a bathroom, Kathleen had managed to slip into the sexiest outfit John had ever seen her in: a long black pencil skirt, hugging her hips and ass to perfection, an off the shoulder blouse in royal blue, black kitten heels, deep red lipstick and a twisted updo that accentuated her neckline perfectly.

“Vegas, baby,” Kathleen said, gesturing to herself with a flourish.

“You look almost perfect,” John said coyly, baiting her.

“ _Almost_?” Kathleen slammed her hands onto her hips, glaring at him with a mix of anger and disappointment.

“Yes, _almost_ ,” John said again. He walked over to her. “You’re missing something.”

John held out a slender, red velvet box. Knowing full well it was jewelry, Kathleen opened the box slowly, enjoying the moment, with a crooked little smirk on her lips. A delicate pearl necklace shimmered tantalizingly from the box.  

“Oh ...”  Kathleen breathed.  “It’s … they’re beautiful. Oh, John.”

John took the pearls from the case as Kathleen spun around to face the dresser’s mirror. John clasped them around her neck and kissed her gently on the nape of her neck.  

“Kitten, _now_ you look perfect,” he said softly.

“When did you get these?”  Kathleen asked as she ran her fingers over the pearls, still admiring them in the mirror.

“Chicago.” John smiled. His hands dropped from her shoulders to her hips, fingers flexing on the curve of them. Still standing behind her, John was very aware how easy it would be to pull her back against his chest. Just the idea of having Kathleen’s sweet body against his was making it difficult to finish what he was saying. “In one of the shops when you were trying something on, I slipped over and bought this.”

“I didn’t have a clue,” Kathleen admitted, staring at John now in the mirror. “I must have taken a long time in the changing room.”  

“It took me 10 minutes to buy the car. How long do you think it took to pick out pearls?”

They laughed and continued to look at each other in the mirror as their mirth tapered off. Kathleen’s heart began to thump even harder when she realized that one tiny step backwards would put her right into John’s embrace. One step and she would be against his chest, her head tilted back on his shoulder so he could kiss and bite her neck, his strong fingers pulling her blouse further down over her -- Kathleen composed herself, breaking their eye contact.

The awkward silence and sexual tension continued to grow in leaps and bounds between them.

_We don’t have time for that right now,_ John thought, stepping away from Kathleen quickly.

He picked up the lone bag they brought into the motel and ushered Kathleen out of the room.

_How can he be so charming and caring and sexy and have_ _such_ _crappy timing?_ she thought as she slipped into the passenger's seat of the Thunderbird.  

John started the engine, but then turned to Kathleen abruptly. “Kitten, when was the last time you drove a car?”  

She gave him a thoughtful look. “The day I got my license, I guess. My parents only had the old Ford and Richie _never_ let me drive. Why?”

“Why don’t you drive for the first hour?” John opened his door and got out. “You may need to drive at some point in Vegas.  It’ll be good practice. And, besides, I could use the break.”  

“Really?” Kathleen asked excitedly, but she was already sliding into the driver’s seat.  

Before John was even settled into the passenger seat, Kathleen was roaring the car out of the motel parking lot and down Route 66 West. John clutched at the passenger side door. Maybe this wasn’t his _smartest_ idea.

After about an hour of Kathleen driving and John white-knuckling it, he took over. Kathleen’s smile never faded as Las Vegas slowly appearing on the desert horizon.

“We’re almost there,” John said, pointing at city.

“I can see that,”  Kathleen said excitedly.

John glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. God, she was adorable. He turned onto the strip and Kathleen craned her neck to look at the casinos they were driving past. John smiled ruefully, glad he’d left the top down so she’d have such a good view. He pulled the Thunderbird up to the Sands Hotel and Casino. Two valets rushed to the car to assist them.  

“Mr. Bianco,” one greeted John.

“James.” John nodded magnanimously and palmed the valet a $20 bill in a handshake. “Take the bags in the trunk to my room please. All of them.”

“Yes, sir,” James agreed, pocketing the $20.  He hurried off to unpack the suitcases.

The second valet stepped up and opened Kathleen’s door. She graciously accepted his proffered hand like she’d been doing that her whole life and swung herself out of the car, all slinky movements and sexy side-eyed glances at the valet. John watched her, considering how simply Kathleen managed to slide into his life. For a girl locked in a dilapidated ranch in New Jersey for two years, she adapted to the bombshell persona like a champ.

“Well, John?” she asked as he walked up to escort her. “No turning back now.”

“Never, my kitten,” John replied, one arm going around her waist.

The two of them strode into the lobby of the Sands Hotel and Casino like they owned the joint. Kathleen was immediately dazzled by the sights and sounds of the casino. John could feel her flinch slightly with each bell or whistle from the slot machines. The crowds of people around the blackjack tables, roulette wheels, and craps pits celebrating and cursing all mixed together astonished her. John propelled his starry-eyed companion through the lobby to the elevators.  

“Where are we going?” Kathleen finally asked as they waited for the elevators.

“Up to my place.” John paused. “I guess _our_ place now.”

“You -- _we_ live in a hotel?” Kathleen said, sounding a little annoyed as they stepped into the elevator.

“It’s a nicest resort in town, Kathleen. And, yes, I live in the penthouse of a hotel and now, so do you,” John said defensively. The elevator door opened and they stepped out into the front hall of the penthouse.

“I wasn’t sure how long I’d be out here at first, so I didn’t want to get an apartment. After a while, you get kinda used to being able to order room service at 3am.” He laughed as he walked deeper into the suite. He gestured around the finely-furnished room. “I promise it’s only temporary if you want it to be.”  

Kathleen handed John her coat to hang up, watching him silently. Tossing her purse and gloves onto a side table, Kathleen’s eyes travelled up and down John from head to toe.

_God, he looks so smart in that suit,_ she decided, nibbling her lip a little. _Has he always looked this good?_

Kathleen watched as John made his way around the room, stripping off his suit jacket and his gun holster, laying both of them over a chair. His crisp shirt hugged his broad shoulders. John leaned over a small desk in the corner of the room, writing on a monogrammed notepad. Kathleen's eyes traced the fine line of John's spine to the dip in the small of his back to the curve of his --

Kathleen shook her head quickly, snapping back to reality. The days and nights of waiting for John to reach out for her, to seduce her, bubbled up and threatened to boil over. Good girls didn't make the first move. Good girls weren't forward like that.

Kathleen caught a glimpse of herself in a gold-flocked mirror across the room: the red lips, the skinny pencil skirt, the swell of cleavage accentuated by the thin material of her blouse. Couple that with the bloody and unconscious husband she left behind in New Jersey, Kathleen came to the realization that she _wasn't_ a good girl anymore.

Smoothing her skirt over her hips, Kathleen sidled across the room where John was dialing the white phone on his desk.

“Hey? John?” she asked, sneaking up behind him.

Before John could respond, Kathleen wrapped her arms around his trim waist, pressing herself against his back. Her pumps gave her enough height to kiss the back of neck.

“What--?” John choked out. “Yeah. No. I gotta go,” he practically yelled into the phone. Slamming it back into the cradle, John grabbed Kathleen’s hands as they came to rest on his belt buckle. “Kath--” he began hurriedly.

“No,” Kathleen snapped. “I’m done waiting for you.” Using John’s belt as leverage, Kathleen turned him around in her arms. Face to face, her bravery faltered a little, but it was too late to stop now. “Kiss me, John. Now.”

John barely let the word “now” finish before he grabbed her face and kissed her, hard. Kathleen felt like the wind had been knocked out of her by the force of his response, but there was no way she was going to push him away. Kissing him back, Kathleen tried to back him against the desk for more control, but John had different ideas.

“Oh, no, Kitten,” he said breathlessly, breaking their kiss. His hands moved from her face to up into her neat updo, where he started pulling the pins that held it in place out. “That’s not my game.”

“What do you mean?” Kathleen asked, her fingers working the buttons of his shirt open.

John grabbed Kathleen by the waist, spun them both around, and popped her up on the edge of the desk. Moving his mouth down her throat, scraping his teeth along her tender skin, John could feel Kathleen’s pulse pounding under his lips. She moaned as he cupped her breasts through her blouse.

Before they could go any further, a knock on the door interrupted them.

“What the hell?” Kathleen exclaimed, sounding infuriated.

“Settle down,” John said firmly. He stepped back from her, taking a second to admire how undone Kathleen had become under his attention.

Another knock broke John’s gaze. Kathleen scowled at him, her color high.

“Go answer the door and get rid of them,” she told him between her teeth.

John took his time walking across the penthouse. He had to show Kathleen that she wasn’t completely in charge of this situation. James the valet and his coworker were at the door, with two luggage carts of suitcases. John let them in.

“Fine, fellas,” he said, pointing to the bedroom. “Leave them in there, will you?”

John caught Kathleen out of the corner of his eye. She was still sitting on the desk, hair wild around her shoulders, cheeks and neck flushed, eyes narrowed in frustration at how long this whole affair was taking. John smiled at her easily, raising his eyebrows playfully. Kathleen glared.

Once the two valets were gone, John turned from shutting the door after them to see Kathleen had stripped off her blouse and skirt and was standing next to the couch, one hand resting on the back. Just in her lingerie and heels, Kathleen arched a sassy eyebrow at him and pursed her lips. John cleared his throat. Shit. He wasn’t _really_ expecting that.

“Which way is the bedroom?” Kathleen asked.

“That way,” he replied, pointing in the direction the valets had gone with their suitcases.

“Then I’m going that way,” Kathleen told him. She turned on her heel and headed down the hall.

John paused for a second, watching the way her hips moved when she walked and how her barely-there panties barely covered her ass. Jesus, he wanted to trail his tongue up the back seam of her stockings.

_Why the fuck am I standing here?_ John thought suddenly and took off down the hallway after his girl, stripping his clothes off as he went.

When he got to the bedroom, Kathleen was on the edge of the bed, had stripped off her garter belt, and was starting to roll her stockings down.

“You leave those on!” John’s voice was like a shot from a cannon.

Kathleen put her hands up like she was busted, then leaned back on her elbows on the mattress. She gave John a look so filthy, he nearly exploded right there.

“And?” she challenged him.

Oh, that was fucking it. _That_ amount of sass? She was going to get it.

“Get over here,” John growled. Yanking Kathleen to to her feet and against him, their lips met in a rough kiss.

John’s fingers worked the hooks on Kathleen’s bra, unclasping it deftly like he’d done it a hundred times (he had, just not on her). Dropping it to the floor, John leaned over and buried his face between Kathleen’s breasts, laving the hot skin between them with his tongue while he twisted her nipples. Kathleen gasped and tried to pull away, but John’s arms went around her waist immediately, not letting her escape.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he whispered. “Promise. I just wanna make you feel good, Kitten.”

John laid Kathleen on the bed and stripped away her panties and wasted no time in laying her spread-eagled across his bed. John’s mouth moved over Kathleen’s body, feather-light and teasing with little nips and bites that made her cry out. In complete contrast to his gentle kisses, John’s hands squeezed and grasped, roughly kneading her skin. He rolled her nipples as he kissed lower over her belly.

“Damn it, John,” Kathleen groaned, lifting her hips up off the mattress.

“Shhh, Kitten,” John said as he worked his hands under her to hold her ass. Kathleen moaned in anticipation. John swiped a stripe between her lips with his strong tongue and Kathleen let out a sharp yelp. “More?” he asked.

“What are you doing?” Kathleen gasped, leaning up to look at him, eyes wide.

“You’ll see,” John teased. “Now relax.”

Kathleen looked doubtful and more than a little fearful as she laid back down on the bed. John slipped his tongue against her clit lightly, enjoying the gasp that escaped Kathleen’s mouth.

“More?” John asked softly, his lips moving against her lips.

Kathleen’s answer was a whimper. John’s throaty laugh went right through Kathleen as he buried his face in her pussy. Licking in long strokes, he let his tongue get caught each time in the hood of her lips, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue. Kathleen clutched at the bedspread under her, her knuckles turning white, as he worked his mouth against her sensitive core.

“God, don’t stop,” she begged, rolling her hips against John’s lips. She reached down and grabbed John’s head, grinding her pussy harder against his mouth.

The pleasure coursing through her started to get more intense. Kathleen had no idea how it could honestly get any better when John suddenly changed technique and started to suckle her clit, then slid a finger inside her wet slit, pumping it in and out. Kathleen screamed as a sudden, unknown explosion of pleasure rocked through her. Kathleen let out a stream of screamed obscenities so vulgar, she immediately was mortified.

“Bad girl,” John mumbled as he lapped at her dripping pussy.

“Shut up,” Kathleen spat out, her body shuddering involuntarily as another orgasm rippled through her at the feeling of his tongue cleaning her up.

John suddenly hovered over Kathleen, his hazel eyes concerned.

“Do you need a minute?” he asked.

Kathleen shook her head wordlessly, her eyes half-closed with lust.

“You sure?” John pressed.

“John, I’m not a virgin,” Kathleen managed to reply, her voice a little shaky. “You don’t have to be that gentle with me.”

The idea that Kathleen might have done this once or twice before him had never crossed John’s mind. He kept thinking of her as the sweet girl he knew in high school, but she wasn’t anymore.

Using his knees, John spread Kathleen’s legs even wider to position himself between her thighs. Leaning over to kiss Kathleen gently, John sunk himself deep inside her while she was distracted by the kiss. Kathleen let out a muffled moan, arching underneath him at the feeling of finally having John White inside her.

John began to move, letting Kathleen adjust to him, slowly at first. Under him, Kathleen moved with him, lifting her hips off the mattress to meet his pace.

“More,” she gasped suddenly.

John started to thrust faster, holding himself over her. God, she was sexy underneath him with all that dark hair spread across his pillow, eyes closed, head thrown back, skin flushed red. John felt Kathleen’s legs wrap around his waist.

“John, please,” Kathleen begged, moaning. "Don't stop."

Encouraged by this, John began to snap his hips against Kathleen at a brutal pace, hard and rough and almost cruel in his speed and ferocity. Kathleen reached over her head to grab the rattling headboard of John’s bed, legs tighter around his slender hips.

John pried her hands from the headboard and pinned her wrists to the bed above her head. Kathleen let out a shriek, pleasure and pain mingled in a delicious sensation she never felt. Above her, John grunted with each thrust, his eyes never leaving Kathleen’s face. She closed her eyes, unable to hold his intense gaze.

Kathleen shrieked out as she began to cum again. John’s hips didn’t slow or stutter, but a sudden thrust that sent Kathleen’s head slamming into the headboard and a ear-splitting shout announced that John was finishing. Colors exploded in front of Kathleen’s eyes, but she wasn’t 100% sure if it was an orgasm or a head injury or both.

John stayed positioned above her, arms shaking at the effort, hips rolling almost involuntarily into her as he orgasmed. His pulsing cock jerking inside her sent little rushes of pleasure through Kathleen again as her body shuddered. John pulled out slowly, the friction of his movement making Kathleen whimper pathetically.

Laying next to each other, John and Kathleen tried to catch their breath. Sweat dried on their skin, raising goose bumps despite the steamy heat of the room. The sun bathed the room in an orange-yellow-red glow that made Kathleen’s skin look positively flawless. John’s fingers gently traced the curve of her face, making her sigh and close her eyes contentedly.

Kathleen turned her head a little to peek at him and caught John looking at her. Kathleen blushed a little as the bed shifted, John rolling over onto his side to look down at her. Kathleen opened her dark eyes to meet John’s hazel ones.

“Wow,” she said breathlessly. “I never would have guessed --”

“That is could be like that?” John guessed.

Kathleen laid her hand on the side of John’s face, bringing his mouth down to hers for another kiss. When their kiss slowed to a stop, Kathleen finished her sentence:

“I never would have guessed that I would finally be with you.”


	6. Chapter 6

John could still taste Kathleen on his lips as he walked down Fremont Street toward the little bar with Paulie and Gene flanking the couple. Both of the men keeping a watchful eye for anything, especially Paulie, who had taken to his new assignment of ensuring Kathleen’s safety to heart. Paulie even protested in front of everyone about bringing Kathleen to the bar with them ‘just in case thing get outta hand.’ Kathleen assured the three men she would stay out of the way and could handle herself if things didn’t go as planned.

The four of them walked into the bar: Paulie first, followed by John and Kathleen, with Gene bringing up the rear and carrying the small briefcase. John walked up to the bar and put down a $20, motioning to the no-necked bartender.

“For whatever she orders,” he said as Kathleen sat down in the corner of the bar. John turned to Kathleen, laying his hand on the small of her back affectionately. “I’ll be back out in a while. Make yourself comfortable, but  _ don’t _ get drunk.”

“Yes, sir,” Kathleen saluted John sarcastically.

John laid his hat on the bar next to her to warn off any other man who may have tried to chat her up. He kissed her on the head and walked to the back room.  

Paulie and Gene were standing outside the heavy wooden door that lead to the back office.  The office door was reinforced just in case someone ever tried to rob the place. John walked into the office, followed closely by Gene. Paulie waited outside the door as it closed behind the other two men. 

“Johnny, welcome back!” the fat man behind the desk greeted him excitedly.

“Jim,” John greeted him evenly, but cordially. “How are you?”

John sat on the corner of the desk, towering over Fat Jim. He knew the small gun holstered under the desk couldn’t shoot through all the wood in the corners and would have to be drawn. John was more than confident that he could get to Fat Jim from this position long before Fat Jim could get the gun pointed in his direction.

“We need to have a conversation,” John continued. Gene walked up and unlocked the small briefcase, lifting the lid slowly. “I stopped in Chicago on my way back,” John continued. Fat Jim barely acknowledged him, stared intently at the money. “Dominic Setaro gave me his blessing too ...” John’s voice trailed off as he searched for the words that would cause Fat Jim the least alarm before finishing “... offer you a way out of this business without you having to worry.”  

“That’s a lot of scratch, kid.” Fat Jim looked over the cash in the case with a whistle. He paused, trying to do a quick calculation based upon the size of the case. His round, sweaty face broke into a wide grin when he was done with his mental arithmetic. “I’d be stupid not to take this and live the rest of my life on an island somewhere.”

“Then we have an agreement,” John said in a voice that brokered no argument as he stood up. He took a step around the desk as Fat Jim’s hands slid out of sight for the briefest of moments. John stiffened minutely as Gene took a half step forward. But the fat man was only pushing himself to his feet with the arms of his chair. John extended a hand as Fat Jim got to his feet. They shook quickly as Fat Jim turned his attention to the case.  

“How’d ya get Dominic Setaro to agree to you taking this bar over anyway?” Fat Jim asked as he put the case on the desk and opened again it to inspect his money a bit closer.

“I have a few ideas that he thought were money makers.” John closed the case and handed it to Fat Jim as he escorted the former owner out of the office and into the bar. “They fronted the money, but I took a bit of it to ensure you would enjoy your retirement. Now, stick around and have a few drinks on me.”

Leaving Fat Jim to his own devices, John walked over to Kathleen, smiling a broad yet deviously crooked grin. Two of his girls walked away from her as John slid up to the bar.

“Hey, Kitten.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders. He grazed his lips over her forehead. “Hope the girls didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Not at all,” Kathleen replied, leaning into his embrace. “Actually, we had a really nice chat.”

John’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “Oh, yeah? What about?”

Kathleen’s smile was innocent, but John could see an unmistakable, steely glint in her eyes.

“Well,” she began, “if you really want to know …”

When John and his guys disappeared into the back office, Kathleen immediately turned her attention to the bar. It was a little shabby and a little rundown and a lot empty. Aside from the no-necked bartender who was pouring her bourbon and two slatternly-looking women sitting together at the opposite end of the bar, there was only one other person there. And god knows he wasn’t buying drinks as he was passed out on his table.

Kathleen furrowed her eyebrows. If this place was such a moneymaker, why was it such a dump? It had good bones: the room was big, it could hold plenty of tables, and the bar was probably gorgeous under all the water rings and sticky spots from badly cleaned up drinks. But, in its current condition? Kathleen wrinkled her nose.  

_ The first thing  _ _ I _ _ would do,  _ Kathleen thought,  _ would be to empty this place out and scrub it from top to bottom. I wonder if they sell Borax by the barrel. _

“Hello?” a rough voice broke into Kathleen’s thoughts.

One of the female drinkers had meandered over to Kathleen. Up close, she looked even more worse for wear than she did from across the room. Smudged make-up, cheap clothes, cheaper scent, and a head of bleached hair that wasn’t fooling anyone she was a blonde.

“Oh. Hello,” Kathleen replied.

Without so much as a by-your-leave, the woman took the empty stool next to Kathleen’s.

“Please. Have a seat,” Kathleen said drily.

The bleach blonde lit a cigarette and exhaled in Kathleen’s direction. Kathleen cleared her throat as she choked on the blue cloud of smoke that enveloped her. Tossing her pack and lighter on the bar, the second woman regarded Kathleen with some curiosity.

“Are you new?” she asked.

“Am I -- ?” Kathleen repeated, confused.

“New,” the other woman replied. “We saw you come in with Mr. B. Madge and me thought you may be new.”

It took Kathleen a minute to realize that this disheveled creature in front of her was one of John’s “girls.” Worse than that, this working girl thought Kathleen was one too.

“Oh, no,” Kathleen replied quickly. “I’m Jo -- Mr. Bianco’s -- Giovanni’s -- I’m his girlfriend.”

The other woman couldn’t hide the surprise on her face. She spun in her seat and yelled across the bar for the third woman to join them. The third woman ambled over. She was in slightly better shape than the blonde, but Kathleen could feel the exhaustion coming off of her in waves. Kathleen’s breath caught in her throat. A few more years under Richie Robertson’s thumb and there was a good possibility that Kathleen could have become …  _ them _ .

“So, Madge, this is Mr. Bianco’s girlfriend,” the first woman was saying. “Oh, by the way, I’m Dolores.”

“Hi,” Kathleen said weakly. She started to hold her hand out, but Dolores was too busy lighting another cigarette to notice. Kathleen quickly dropped her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dolores said mockingly. “Look at the manners on this one.”

“This one?” Kathleen repeated.

“Never ya mind Dolores, honey,” Madge spoke up quickly, shooting her friend a look. “It’s real nice to meet ya too.”

“How long --” Kathleen’s question stopped as Madge yelled for another gin. “How long have you worked here?”

Dolores and Madge exchanged a glance.

“About two years,” Dolores said at the same time Madge answered with, “A year.”

“Has it always been like this?” Kathleen waved her hand around them.

“Like what? Like a dive?” Dolores coughed out a laugh. “Yeah, honey. It’s always been like this.”

Kathleen wrinkled her nose again. “How’s business?”

“The bar makes money with the booze. The boss makes money with the books. We make money with our snatches,” Dolores said. 

Her brutal honesty was probably gin-fueled, Kathleen realized, because Madge pinched her hard on the arm. A sudden idea surged through Kathleen. Belting back her bourbon, Kathleen turned to the two hookers.

“What would make this place better for you girls?” she asked. “In your opinion?”

“How about some men?” Dolores cracked, but Madge looked like she was considering Kathleen’s query seriously.

“I’d really like my own room,” Madge said.

“What do you mean?” Kathleen asked. She motioned for a pen and paper from the bartender, who brought them, looking suspicious. Kathleen quelled him with a glare. She took the writing items from him and turned back to Madge. “Tell me what you mean.”

Madge looked worried, but Kathleen’s honest, earnest face prompted a longer answer:

“I want my own room for when I get a john. Someplace for me. Someplace nice.”

“Where do you take clients now?” Kathleen asked. The use of John’s name to describe the prostitute's clients made her skin crawl a little.

Dolores eye narrowed again as Madge confessed, “There’s two back rooms with cots.”

Kathleen’s pen froze above her paper. “What?”

“Yeah,” Dolores broke in sharply. “When we get a john, we gotta share the two rooms.”

Pushing the mental picture about what these rooms looked and smelled like out of her head, Kathleen gestured with her pen. 

“What else?” she pressed.

“This place is a hole,” Dolores interjected. “It needs a bomb taken to it.”

“So, a cleaner environment?” Kathleen wrote that down. “What else?”

“A kitchen so we can order dinner?” Madge suggested.

Kathleen’s pen paused. “Where do you get dinner now?”

Madge and Dolores didn’t look at each other, but Kathleen could feel the answer between them: They ate what and when and where they could.

As the conversation progressed, Kathleen got more and more information out of the two women: their own rooms to live and work in; a kitchen to order from or cook in; a classier joint; more money; a promise of protection; the list went on and on.

“What about extra money for new clothes and trips to the beauty parlor?” Kathleen asked as she scribbled.

The dead silence that met Kathleen’s question was deafening. Kathleen looked up at the two other women, who were staring at her like she was growing another eye out of her forehead.

“What did I say?” Kathleen asked.

“What’s wrong with the way we look?” Dolores demanded as Madge said, “Really?”

John and Paulie were coming out of the back office with Fat Jim. Dolores and Madge lumbered to their feet, very obviously done talking with Kathleen.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kathleen promised hastily as Dolores walked off.

Madge paused. “You’re real nice, honey. But don’t try and do something ya can’t.”

Kathleen took a deep breath at the end of her story. John smiled at Kathleen’s passion. He saw her in another new light for the first time. Kathleen might have a head for this type of stuff ...  _ if  _ her heart didn’t get in the way too much.

“Why don’t we head back into the office and I’ll tell you what I’m planning for this place?”  he asked, but his tone left zero wiggle room for Kathleen to say “No” even if she wanted too.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she said, sliding off the bar stool. Her hair and makeup were still immaculate, not a strand out of place or a smudge of her lipstick, despite the smoky bar and in stark contrast to the two women she had been talking to.

John lead her through the heavy office door. Gene had finished straightening up the office, removing Fat Jim’s clutter and junk.  

“Gene,” John said, “why don’t you get us something to eat? I have a feeling we’ll be here for a while tonight.”

“Yes, Boss,” Gene said with relief in his voice. He headed for the office door. “Regular place?”

“Yes.”

“Right away,” Gene said and closed the door behind him.  

Kathleen looked around the office. Small, dingy, still cluttered despite Gene ministerings. She wandered over to the door and inspected the three large locks.

“Was the other gentleman --” she began as she turned around.

“Jim,” John added, perched on the front of his desk.

“Was he paranoid?” Kathleen motioned to the locks on the door.

“Not at all, Kathleen. We ran numbers from here. A lot of cash would flow through this bar and into this office.”

“So, is this a bad area then?” Kathleen’s voice took on a worried pitch.

“No, exactly the opposite,”  John answered patiently. He crossed the room and lead Kathleen to a chair in front of the desk. “This area is about to explode. It’s why I brought you back here. I want to tell you about my plans for this place.”

Kathleen fell silent as John began to tell her of his plan for the bar.  He started with a little background on the area and why it was a perfect location and time to do this.  Prostitution was legal in Vegas, but most people weren’t going to pick a hooker up off the street. A girl they “meet in a bar” was something else. Putting that bar in the center of a casino forced people to walk passed the slots and table games. Putting the casino inside of the hotel with shops and restaurants keeps people on the premises instead of ever leaving. It was ambitious as hell but, because of the money provided by Dominic Setaro and John’s connections with the construction folks of his early days in the ‘business,’ he should be able to get it completed in under 18 months. Thanks to the girls providing an income during construction they wouldn’t utilize as much of the Chicago loan. That’s how John was able to afford to pay off Fat Jim and let him retire instead of  _ retiring him _ like Dominic suggested.

“Well?” John asked when he was done. “What do you think?”

Kathleen didn’t reply right away, her face thoughtful. Her lips parted a little and she licked the bottom one a little as she thought. She slowly raised her eyes up to John’s face and gave him a pert little grin.

“I think it’s genius,” she said finally.

“Yeah? Me too,” John agreed.

“When did you get so smart?” Kathleen asked, standing up and slinking up to him. 

John put his arms around Kathleen’s waist, his hands resting on her hips, thumbs brushing against the curve of her ass. 

“I’ve always been smart,” he told her.

Kathleen’s red lips hovered over his playfully as she unbuttoned his suit jacket to slide her arms around his middle under the coat.

“I think you’re even more attractive when you’re being clever,” she told him softly.

“Oh, yeah?” John eyes flicked down to the swell of her cleavage then back up to her face. “How attractive?”

Kathleen kissed John lazily, sucking on his bottom lip as their kiss broke. 

“So attractive,” she whispered.

John leaned in to nibble on Kathleen’s neck but was interrupted by the office door opening.

“Boss --” Paulie’s voice began.

“Not now, Paulie!” John shouted over Kathleen’s shoulder at the large man.

“But, Boss --” Paulie tried again.

_ “Get out!”  _ John shouted again as Kathleen giggled.

“Oh, that’s funny, is it?” John asked his girlfriend. He gave her round butt a hard slap. “You laughing at me?”

“Of course I am,” Kathleen replied as she wiggled against John teasingly. “Slap my butt again.”

“Kitten …” John began. Kathleen wiggled against him again, eliciting a small groan from his throat. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Kiss me again,” Kathleen whispered in a little girl voice.

The office door opening again made John roar,  _ “I swear to God! Somebody better be dying!” _

“I got dinner, Boss,” Gene said sheepishly, his face going red at seeing John and Kathleen embracing.

“Gene? Not  _ now _ ,” John growled, glaring over Kathleen’s head to the embarrassed man in the doorway.

“I could eat,” Kathleen said suddenly, jerking John’s attention away from Gene and back to her.

“What?” John asked, looking at his girl.

“I could eat,” Kathleen repeated as Gene fled the room. “I haven’t had anything since breakfast. We kinda skipped lunch.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining about skipping lunch,” John teased.

Kathleen untangled herself from John’s embrace, smoothing her clothes and hair back into place. 

“C’mon, Mr. Bianco,” she said. “You should get some food in you.” Kathleen leaned around John, gripped the edge of his desk, and gave the heavy furniture a shake. “If you plan on having me on this sturdy desk later, you’re gonna need to keep your strength up.”

John shook his head, grinning. “Woman, I love the way you think.”

Taking her hand, John lead Kathleen out of the office. Before he turned the light off, John took one final look around the small room. It wasn’t much yet, but it was  _ his _ .  _ His _ office. And great things were going to spill out of  _ his _ office.

John heard the first shot, realized exactly what it was, and was already pushing Kathleen back into the office before Kathleen registered the sound.

“Lock the door!” he ordered as he slammed it shut behind her. The second shot was from a different gun John realized as he drew his pistol.

John never liked having to draw his gun, preferring to talk his way out of problems. Gene, however, lived for gun play. The second shot was certainly from Gene’s M-1911, his military side arm, which always had a distinct ring to it.

Paulie grabbed John and pushed him into the corner, pressing his bulk against John and pinning him to the wall.

“She okay?” Paulie yelled in John’s ear.  His gun drawn and at the ready, pointing toward the bar area.  

“Yeah!” John yelled. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Fat Jim’s goons rushed the door,” Paulie said, sounding a little calmer, as two more pistol rounds went off before the distinctive sound of a shotgun. There was a scream and crash as someone was shot and hit the floor.

Paulie inched around the corner, took aim, and fired a shot. The sound of a body collapsing to the ground over a table was the only retort.  

“Boss!” Gene yelled from behind the bar. “We’re clear.”

Gene slowly walked his way around the bar. He moved gingerly, bleeding from the bullet wound in his right shoulder.

“Four down. Three dead, one wounded. Three in front of the bar and one behind,” he continued. His Korean War training showing through in his calm, calculated speech. “One bystander too,” he added, indicating Dolores on the floor. There was little reason to check her pulse. The shotgun blast to her chest was unmistakable.

Paulie finally let John around the corner and into the main room of the bar. The form of Fat Jim moaning on the floor in front of the bar caught Paulie’s attention first. John watch as Paulie’s eyes glazed over. The expression on Paulie’s face changed from protector to executioner as he stood over Fat Jim.

Paulie pressed his gun into Fat Jim’s hip and pulled the trigger, the bullet ripping through his flesh. The high-pitched scream from Fat Jim was like that of a car needing breaks. Paulie spoke calmly to Fat Jim. The words were inaudible to John, but Paulie’s actions were unmistakable: He was torturing Fat Jim. John never had much of a stomach for that type of thing, but like Gene and gun play, Paulie lived for torture. John’s thoughts turned back to Kathleen, so he hurried back to the office door as Fat Jim screamed a few more times before falling silent.

“Kathleen, it’s John,” he said, knocking on the door. “Everyone’s okay. It’s safe. Open the door.”

There was a long pause. John could hear the locks being disengaged one by one. When the door opened slowly, Kathleen was holding the small .22 revolver from under the desk. It was trembling in her grip as she looked at John.

“What the fuck was that?!” she screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks as her emotions overwhelmed her.

“That was Fat Jim. He tried making a final play to be a boss in Vegas.”  John shook his head.

_ Now I know why Dominic Setaro told me to retire him, _ John thought as he took the pistol from Kathleen’s hand. He pulled her close, slipping the gun into his jacket pocket as he pressed a kiss on her temple.

Kathleen composed herself quickly, wiping tears from under her eyes. 

“Are Paulie and Gene okay?” she asked, craning her neck to look around John.

Gene walked around the corner before John could answer. Kathleen pushed herself from John’s embrace and rushed toward Gene.

“Oh, my god, Gene! You’re bleeding. Go sit down,”  she ordered.

“Boss?” Gene looked at John.

“Better listen to her, Gene,” John advised.

“Gene!” Kathleen said sharply.

From her tone alone, Gene headed back into the main room and sat on a bar stool. Kathleen walked to him as he sat down.  

“Boss!” Gene exclaimed as Kathleen entered the room.

John caught Kathleen by the arm, turning her around before the bar came into her view. He held her with both arms as she started to protest.

“Kathleen! Stop!” John ordered and she yielded to his tone before realizing she did it. “Five people are dead in there. Are you sure you can handle that?”

“Damn it, John!” Kathleen snapped. “I told all three of you I could handle myself if things ‘went badly’, as Paulie put it.” She pulled herself away from John and strode into the bar.  “And … I … can ...” Her voice trailed off for the briefest of moments as she gazed around the bar before bringing her attention back to Gene. She cleared her throat. “Gene, take off your jacket.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Gene shucked his jacket off, wincing. “What are you doing, ma’am?”

“I’m checking to see if the bullet came out the other side,” Kathleen said casually. “If it did, then we can clean it and stop the bleeding. If not, you’ll have to go to the hospital and get a surgeon to take it out and patch you up.”  

John watched Kathleen uncertainly. “Kitten, do you know what you’re doing?”

Kathleen ignored John and assessed the room: The bar was in total disarray. There were three dead men on the ground, broken tables, glass, and blood everywhere. Paulie was still standing over Fat Jim, mumbling to himself. Madge was curled up in a corner booth.

_ Where’s Dolores?  _ Kathleen thought for a moment as she scanned the rest of the bar. 

The slender arm of a women lying on the ground around the corner of the bar was all Kathleen was able to see. She turned her attention back on Gene’s wound. 

“You’ll be okay, Gene. It came out the other side.”

“That’s good” Gene agreed. “And, yeah. Dolores is dead.”  

“I’m sorry, Kitten,” John said as Kathleen stepped away from Gene and started walking over to Madge who was still huddled in the corner. “We have to leave. Now.” 

Kathleen ignored John. Paulie and Gene walked to the front door, guns still drawn.

“We’re not going anywhere without her,” Kathleen told him.  

“Who?” John asked as he put his arm around Kathleen’s waist.

“Madge.” Kathleen pointed to her huddled and shaking girl in the corner booth.

“Damn it … ” John ran his hand over his face. He could sense that Kathleen wasn’t going to give up without her and, if taking her back to the hotel was all he had to do, then so be it. “Let’s go, Madge.”

Madge stood up as the first sirens were heard in the distance. The five of them slipped out of the bar and up Fremont Street. John lead his motley crew back to The Sands with a girl on each arm -- one blood-splattered, the other white-faced, both of them shaking -- and  flanked closely by Paulie and Gene, whose bleeding had nearly slowed to a stop already.

John sighed. This wasn’t exactly how he thought his future in Las Vegas, or his future with Kathleen, was going to start.


	7. Chapter 7

It took a week for the police to close their investigation of the club murders. Thanks to a little bribery and some laziness, it was ruled a robbery gone horribly wrong, killing five people. During the time the investigation was ongoing, Paulie and Gene laid very low. Gene’s wound was healing nicely with Paulie and Madge kept a close eye on him.

Also during that time, John had been speaking with Kathleen about the meeting with the other Vegas bosses. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that Kathleen’s ability to immerse herself in every aspect of her new lifestyle was impressive. She had some incredible ideas for the new place: from the decor of the entire resort to the daily operations with the girls. John knew she had to be brought into the fold and what better way to do that then to let her show off a bit during the meeting? She could set the bosses at ease with a simple introduction and a smile. Of course, this could also put a target on her back if things went awry. That nagging worry hung hard on John.

Kathleen had been working on John the entire week about Madge. John absolutely saw Kathleen’s point about higher class girls bringing in more men. If anything helped John decide this was the work Kathleen did on Madge. With just a little makeup and some new clothes, Madge had Gene all flustered, much to the girls’ amusement. Kathleen had been selling Madge on the bar and even living arrangements for the girls in the new hotel. All of this made perfect sense to John, but it would not be brought up at the meeting. The last thing John wanted was the bosses thinking Kathleen was a whore instead of his girl.  

John met every man who came off the elevator with a small smile and a handshake. He ushered each one into the front room of the borrowed hotel suite. There was no way that he was going to host a meeting with the most dangerous men in Las Vegas in his home, the place where he and Kathleen slept, so the less luxurious suite directly below their penthouse would have to suffice.

Once John was satisfied all of his guests had arrived, he turned to the group of well-heeled thugs with a broad grin. 

"Welcome, gentlemen," he said. "I'm honored you could be here. I have a feeling we're going to accomplish a lot of amazing things together." He gestured through the open doors into the sitting room where Kathleen was waiting.

"I'm not gonna lie, Bianco," a mustachioed man, Carlo Gato, said as they made their collective way into the sitting room. "I'm a little curious why I'm here."

"We'll tell you everything," John promised.

" _ We _ ? Whattya mean  _ we _ ?" Carlo Gato demanded. "I don't remember being told about no  _ we _ \--"

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." Kathleen's clear voice rang across the room.

Kathleen, who adamantly refused to "play waitress," was more than willing to "play hostess." She stood next to the round table the hotel staff had brought up, wearing a red and white dress that didn't leave much to the imagination in reference to her curves. The men whipped their hats off at the sight of her. Kathleen came across the room with the sweetest and shyest smile John had ever seen her fake.

"We're so glad you could all take time out of your busy schedules for us," Kathleen was saying. She took one of Gato's hands in both of hers and squeezed it slightly. "I can't wait for you to hear all about John's idea. It really is very brilliant." Kathleen dropped her chin a little and peeked over her cat eye glasses at Gato, who looked dazzled by this bombshell. "Won't you come with me to the table?" 

Kathleen looped her arm through Gato's and lead him away from the group. John watched the men all exchange glances that he probably wasn't meant to see as they followed Kathleen to the round table, like rats following the dishiest Pied Piper ever. John smiled to himself as Kathleen put a little extra swing into her hips, knowing full-well that her bottom was being stared at. Was his girl not the greatest secret weapon ever?

"Would you all like a drink?" Kathleen indicated the tray of whiskey. "I can order lunch whenever you gentlemen like."

A mumbled round of "thank yous” went around the room as the most dangerous men in Las Vegas were thrown off by Kathleen's charms. John waited until all the men were seated before joining them. Kathleen trailed her fingertips over the back of his neck before settling herself at the high bar to the right of the table. She perched on her stool, legs crossed and back arched, leaning negligently against the bar on an elbow, to watch the proceedings.

"Gentlemen," John began, drawing the groups' attention from Kathleen to him, "I'm honored to announce that I have Dominic Setaro's blessing to start the construction of a very modern resort and casino right on the Strip."

John launched into a detailed description of his resort. The men around the table drank and listened while John spoke. Once he was done, there was a small round of applause from his audience.

"Why you?" one man spoke up.

"Excuse me?" John replied, trying to hide the surprise in his voice. Behind him, Kathleen drew in a sharp breath.

"Why. You?" the man, Salvatore Campanelli, repeated slowly. "Why did Setaro pick a snot-nosed little punk from Jersey like you?"

"Well, Salvatore," John said in a tone that was so low the men around the table had to strain to hear him, "it’s because I asked him."

The mobsters around the table murmured to themselves. There was a rumor that the snot-nosed little punk from Jersey had gone to Dominic Setaro for a meeting, but no one really believed it. Now here was definite proof. 

"Why not just do it on your own if it's such a great idea?" Campanelli asked.

John could feel his temper starting to rise, but there was no reason to lose it. Losing his temper would just prove he really was a snot-nosed little punk from Jersey. John steepled his fingers under his chin and regarded Campanelli like the older man was a child.

"Because I wanted to show the head of the Family the respect he was due," John continued in the same low, deadly voice. "As it should be done."

Salvatore Campanelli laughed. "I haven't cleared a single thing I've done with Setaro since I got here."

Kathleen made a small noise that drew the attention of the mobsters sitting closest to her. John caught her eye and she widened them at him in shock. Even Kathleen knew how wrong it was to admit a faux pas like that in this room.

"He's in Chicago and we're running around the Wild West," Campanelli went on. "He can't control us from his office building."

John's face was impassive as he let Campanelli boast. No point in making a scene about it now. John was sure it would be taken care of by someone else. If not ... Well, Dominic Setaro had ways of finding things out, no matter the distance.

"What's the place gonna look like?" a man with a thick New York City accent interrupted Campanelli's spiel.

"Ah, that's Kathleen's department," John said, gesturing at her.

The men around the table swiveled their heads to look at Kathleen, then back at John.

"A woman?" New York City Accent asked. "You trust a  _ woman _ with that kinda job?"

"Who better to decorate a resort?" John replied. "What man knows the difference between a sconce and a lamp shade?"

Kathleen bristled at John's condescending remark and tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her annoyance. She slid from her bar stool and stood next to John's chair, laying her hand on his broad shoulder.

"Gentlemen," she said, "as you know, every casino in Vegas has a theme: El Rancho and Last Frontier are Western themed, The Sahara is Arabian, The Tropicana is tropical, and so on. Now, what I propose is an Italian theme. I'm suggesting murals of the Italian countryside and cityscapes like Rome and Venice. All the materials we use should be Italian made: marble and fabrics and stone. Lots of reds and golds and warm Mediterranean colors. It'll be like Italy in the desert."

The mobsters stared at Kathleen when she was done talking. No one said a word and Kathleen felt a knot of worry build in her belly. What was wrong with them? Her idea was great. Why were they just staring at her? Finally, one of them turned to John.

"I dunno about this, Bianco," he said doubtfully. "Don't that sound a little  _ queer _ to you?"

Kathleen's hands were balled into fists at her sides. John could feel her dark eyes drilling holes into the side of his head, but he dare not look at her. Instead, John let out a peal of laughter.

"You know girls," he said, prompting laughter and agreement around the table from the other men. John felt Kathleen's hand back on his shoulder and the sharp edge of her thumbnail start to dig into his skin through the suit jacket and shirt materials. Oh, she was pissed off. "Think about it like this, gentlemen: Italy.  _ In the desert _ ." John spread his hands in front of him like he was spelling out the words on a billboard.

Carlo Gato nodded. "I like it." 

" _ What _ \-- ?" Kathleen began, her voice squeaking in rage.

John grabbed her hand that rested on his shoulder. "What would we like for lunch? That's sweet, Kitten," John cut her off swiftly. "Just tell room service we'd like the buffet we ordered brought up now."

Kathleen eye's were hard but her smile was harder as she pulled her wrist from John's grasp. Stalking away to make the call, one of the mobster watched her go, letting out a low whistle.

"That's a fine-looking girl you got there, Bianco," he said, turning to John. "Where'd you find her?"

John smiled easily as a few other men agreed with their compadre's opinion.

"If I tell you, you'll all want one of your own and then my girl won't be the best anymore," he joked, sending a roar of laughter around the table.

After the mobsters left, John and Kathleen left the borrowed suite and headed back upstairs to their penthouse. Letting them in, John was in high spirits and couldn't stop talking.

"I think that went really well, Kitten," he was saying as he stripped off his tie and jacket. "Campanelli is going to be a problem, but he probably hung himself with all that shit about not respecting Setaro."

"Mmm-hmm," Kathleen agreed quietly. She slipped out of her shoes and picked them up, one in each hand.

"Whattya think, Kitten?" John asked happily. "We're already talking about breaking ground in a week or two!"

"I heard," Kathleen said. "I was there too."

"I know you were." John kept chattering as he walked into their bedroom. He came back out in more casual clothes. Kathleen hadn't moved from her spot, but she watched him pour himself a double of bourbon to celebrate. "To us." He raised his glass at Kathleen. "Saluti."

"To us," Kathleen said dully. "To us?" she repeated. 

"Kathleen?" John asked, lowering his glass slowly.

_ "To us?!"  _ Kathleen screamed, flinging one high heeled shoe across the room. John ducked, dropping his glass, which shattered on the floor. "Are you  _ kidding _ me?!" Kathleen continued to scream. "Those animals didn't take me seriously at all! They acted like I was some stupid little chit with dumb ideas until you repeated  _ exactly _ what I said and suddenly it was fucking genius!"

"Kitten, Kitten, calm down," John said from a safe distance away.

"Shut up!" Kathleen yelled, throwing her other shoe at him. This one hit John in the arm as he turned away to protect himself. "I hate you!"

"Kathleen!" John exclaimed. Her quivering rage was cute as hell and John fought to hold back a smile, but failed. 

Kathleen froze, her mouth open. One eyebrow arched as she began to grit her teeth.

"Are you  _ laughing _ at me?" she demanded in a deadly angry voice.

"No, Kitten, I'm not," John lied.

"Don't you lie to me, John White," Kathleen snapped.

"Kitten --" John's resolve broke and he began to chuckle.

"Go to hell." Kathleen stormed from the room and down the hall to their bedroom.

"Kathleen!" John followed her, still laughing. "I'm sorry. I am. But you look so mad. It's adorable."

Kathleen spun around in the bedroom doorway. "Fuck off," she spit at him and slammed the door in his face.

"Hey!" John banged on the door. "Don't you slam a door on me!"

"What are you gonna do?" Kathleen demanded from inside the bedroom. John heard the lock click into place. "Break the door down?"

"Did you just lock me out of my own bedroom?" John was furious. "Kathleen, let me in there right goddamn now!"

"That's not gonna happen!" Kathleen shouted back.

John grabbed the doorknob, even though he knew it wasn't going to open. Wrenching it back and forth a few times, John stalked away to find the key. When he couldn’t find the key, John headed back to the bedroom door, tapping on it gently.

“Kathleen, let me in,” John said softly. “We can talk about what happened.”

“Can’t find the key, can ya?” Kathleen shot back.

John started, then leaned closer to the door suspiciously. “No, I can’t. Why?”

“Because it’s in here with me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” John growled under his breath.

“Good night,” Kathleen said. “Sweet dreams.”

“Kathleen Flynn, you open that door right now!” John shouted.

“Good night!” Kathleen sang from the other side of the door. Her voice sounded far away, so she was probably already getting into the big bed on the other side of the room.

John pounded in the door one more time before stalking down the hallway to the second bedroom. He stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed, grumbling. Getting comfortable was hard without having Kathleen's warm body next to him. Folding his hands behind his head, John glared up at the ceiling. Why was she so difficult?

_ Because you  _ _ made _ _ her that way, idiot, _ his brain told him.

John didn't remember falling asleep, but he did remember feeling the bed depress next to him as Kathleen slid in.

“Good morning,” she whispered, laying her head in the hollow of his shoulder. Her fingers traced their way through John's chest hair softly.

John didn't open his eyes. “Morning.”

Kathleen sighed and shifted closer to him, her silky nightgown rustling against the sheets. The lingering scent of her Joy perfume reached John’s nose and he knew there was no ignoring her even if he had an iron will. Which he, undeniably, didn’t have when it came to Kathleen. John was about to pull Kathleen closer and kiss her when she spoke up again.

“I’m so sorry for last night,” she said in a small, frightened voice. “Please don’t be angry at me.”

John popped his eyes open and tilted his head to look down at her. She wasn’t looking up at him, but instead was staring across the room with open, empty eyes. Her face was a frozen mask of apprehension and fear.

_ Oh, Jesus,  _ John thought as realization dawned on him.

“Why are you apologizing, Kitten?” he asked quietly, trying to raise her face to his.

Kathleen let John raise her chin but she resisted meeting his eyes. “Because I made you mad.”

“You didn’t make me mad,” John told her.

“I locked the bedroom door.”

“You sure did.”

“That didn’t make you mad?”

“It sure didn’t.”

“But you banged on it.”

“Because you locked it.”

“And now you’re mad.”

“Not even a little.”

Kathleen finally looked up at John, confused. “You aren’t mad? At all?”

John shook his head slowly, smiling a little. “Not at all.”

“Why not?” Kathleen asked.

“Because my name isn’t Richie Robertson,” John told her.

Kathleen’s cheeks flushed as her eyes widened. “I didn’t say -- ”

“You didn’t have to, Kathleen,” John interrupted. “I’m not him and I never will be.”

Kathleen licked her bottom lip before biting the corner of it. She met John’s gaze, smiling shyly.

“You sure you’re not mad?” she asked softly.

“Kitten, I couldn’t be mad at you over something so trivial,” John reassured her.

Kathleen’s face was pure innocence as her fingers trailed over his chest, his belly, to the waistband of his boxer shorts. Her hand was just starting to slide under the elastic when the phone on the nightstand rang suddenly. John let out an angry shout.

“Are you kidding me, God?” he yelled up at the ceiling.

Kathleen let out a giggle as she sat up to answer the phone. John grabbed her wrist.

“Kitten, no,” he implored. “Let it ring.”

“Can you seriously say you can make love to me with a phone ringing in the background?” Kathleen asked.

“I can make love to you on top of a rabid bear!” John exclaimed at the same time Kathleen burst out laughing and said “Hello?” into the receiver.

John sat up and began kissing her shoulder blades, sliding the spaghetti straps of her nightgown off her shoulders while Kathleen listened on the other end. She reached behind her and slapped his arm. Spinning around to face him, Kathleen couldn’t have looked more surprised if you paid her.

“It’s Salvatore Campanelli!” she gasped at John. “His car blew up in front of his club last night. He’s dead.”

“Who is that?” John demanded. He snatched the phone from Kathleen. “Who is this?” he barked into the phone.

“It’s me, Boss.” Paulie was on the other end of the phone. “Sorry if I woke you and the lady.”

“Just tell me what happened, Paulie,” John snapped. He reached for the nightstand for his cigarettes, but Kathleen was already lighting one for him. She popped it between his lips as she got out of bed. John was momentarily distracted, watching her walk across the room, the silk of her nightie swishing, but Paulie’s voice was still droning on. “Wait, wait, Paulie. Start again.”

A low whistle from the doorway made John jerk his head in that direction. Kathleen slipped out of her nightie, letting it pool around her feet. She blew him a kiss and left the room, naked. John bit his hand as Paulie started his story over again.

“Last night, Mr. Campanelli left his club as it closed. His car was parked out front like it always was. He got in and it blew up when his driver tried to turn it on,” Paulie reported.

“Holy  _ shit _ .” John scrubbed a hand over his face. Just yesterday, Campanelli had been at the table, bragging about pulling the wool over Dominic Setaro’s eyes and now Campanelli only existed in little bloody pieces all over Fremont Street. “Any ideas who did it?”

“No one’s sayin’. You know that, Boss,” Paulie replied.

“Yeah, yeah,” John agreed, crushing his cigarette out. Sitting up on the side of the bed, John lit another one. “Listen, Paulie. Send flowers to Campanelli’s widow  _ and _ his girlfriend -- ”

“Which girlfriend?” Paulie interrupted. “The newest one was in the car with him last night.”

“Jesus, what the hell?” John said. “Never mind the girlfriend then, obviously. Just the widow.”

“You got it, Boss.”

“Oh, and Paulie?” John said.

“Yeah?”

“Kathleen’s more important than before,” John told him in a low voice. “If they’re blowing up girlfriends, I’m not taking any chances.”

“You got it, Boss,” Paulie agreed and hung up.

“Any chances about what?” Kathleen asked from the doorway.

John turned and smiled at her. “Nothing, Kitten.”

Kathleen arched one eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar, John White.”

“Why aren’t you naked?” John asked, changing the subject.

“I’m naked under my robe,” Kathleen replied.

“Prove it.” John’s hazel eyes twinkled wickedly.

“You’re wicked,” Kathleen told him.

“You like it,” he replied.

“I do,” Kathleen agreed. "Now, let me get dressed so we can eat."

Over breakfast, John looked up at Kathleen, who was reading the newspaper. She looked so cute there with her glasses slipping down her nose, her fork pressed against her bottom lip, as she studied the front page. John put out his cigarette and took a sip of his coffee.

“Hey, Kathleen?” he asked.

“Hmmm?” 

“Hey, put that thing down for a second,” John insisted. “I’m talking to you.”

“Oh, yes, right away,” Kathleen sassed, but looked up from her article. “What is it, my lord?”

“I was thinking -- ”

“Congratulations.”

“Kathleen, I’m being serious here,” John said.

Kathleen little smile fell away. “Okay. I’m listening.”

John took a short breath before meeting Kathleen’s curious eyes. 

“We should get married,” he said.

“What?” Kathleen asked, shocked.

“We should get married,” he repeated.

“Why?”

John started, surprised by her reaction. “Because we should,” he replied. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Is that why?” Kathleen asked, picking up her coffee cup. She took a small sip and put it back down. “Because it’s the right thing to do?”

“Well … yeah.” John was mystified by this line of questioning.

“Well, then, no,” Kathleen answered.

“No?” John choked out, flabbergasted. “Did you just say  _ no _ ?”

“Yes, I did.” Kathleen nodded.

“What the fuck, Kathleen?”

“Oh, that’s romantic,” Kathleen shot back. “‘What the fuck, Kathleen?’” she mocked John’s voice. “Now I  _ definitely _ want to marry you.”

“Well? Why not?” John demanded.

“Well, first of all, I’m already married.” Kathleen held up one finger, then began ticking off the other reasons on her remaining fingers, “Second of all, no one should make a decision like that lightly. And third of all, I don’t think you really mean it.”

John was indignant. “Of _course_ I mean it!”

“Salvatore Campanelli was killed last night  _ and _ we had our first fight,” Kathleen said. “You’re upset and not thinking clearly.” 

“Stop being logical, woman,” John ordered, feeling the rug slipping out from under him. “Besides, that already married thing? That’s no big deal. All you need to do is establish residency in Vegas for six weeks and you can get divorced.”

“Doesn’t the other spouse have to sign the papers too?” Kathleen asked, raising her eyebrows.

John smirked. “Not if you have enough money.”

Kathleen shook her head. “No. Ask me again in 12 weeks.”

“12 weeks?” John exclaimed.

“Yes, and have a ring next time,” Kathleen teased, turning back to her newspaper. “Who asks a girl to marry him with no ring?”

John looked across the table at Kathleen, not knowing if he wanted to laugh or rage. God, his woman was infuriating sometimes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sex in this chapter. More people involved in the sex too. ;)

John looked around the suite. Waiting for Kathleen and Madge to finish getting ready for dinner was a two drink ordeal. It was bad enough with one of them, but with two, time stood still. When Kathleen finally stepped out of the bedroom, John did a double take and he knew it was worth the wait.

Kathleen was decked out in red heels and off white silk dress hugged her body perfectly, but it was the tightness around her midriff that was something new, accentuated by a red leather belt. Her red lipstick and perfect make-up brought the outfit together, cementing her as a bombshell.

John’s eyes slipped passed Kathleen to Madge as she stepped out of the bedroom too. John had known Madge for the better part of two years, but had never seen her like this.

 _She looks respectable but utterly available,_ John decided, nodding approvingly.  

A few years of malnutrition and living on her back had worn on Madge, but she was coming back around over the last month. She had on a slender pencil skirt and a soft pink sweater that screamed jail bait. John knew tonight was about Madge trying out her new look in a live setting and not just to torment poor Gene, who was ridiculously smitten with her.

“Ladies,” John greeted them, getting up from the couch. “Shall we?”

“Whatcha think?” Madge said, posing.

“What do you think?”  Kathleen corrected her, passing Madge her gloves, hat, and purse.

“Right,” Madge corrected herself. “What do you think?”  

“I think you clean up _very_ nicely,” John said with a grin at Madge. “And I think you, Kitten, could have worked in a salon.” He grabbed his fedora from the closet. The grey suit fit John like a glove. The white shirt and matching grey and red tie were all tailored specifically for his athletic build.  

“Thank you.” Madge blushed as she answered John, looking more like a young girl than a seasoned hooker. Kathleen eyed her speculatively.  

The ride down to the lobby was quick and silent. Madge seemed nervous and unusually quiet while John escorted both beautiful ladies to the restaurant downstairs. Despite the growing line, the threesome walked in and were seated immediately.

“Mr. Bianco,” the host greeted them in an exaggerated Italian accent. “Your table is, of course, ready. Please follow me.”  

“Thank you, Rinaldo,” John said, shaking the man’s hand, palming him a $20 bill for his services.

With the three of them seated, John took a look around doubtfully. The early dinner crowd was mostly couples, not the ideal place and time for Madge to ply her craft, even with the new, innocent look. Madge seemed to sense the same as dinner dragged on and the three of them made small talk.

“Kathleen,” Madge asked hesitantly as their dinners were cleared, “do you think this will work?”

“It’s perfect,” Kathleen said confidently. “If you can get even one guy to make an offer tonight, you can do it anywhere.”

“I guess,” Madge said unconvincingly. “'Scuse me.”

Madge rose, John standing politely until she left the table. Madge swayed her hips back and forth with each stride until she reached the bar. She ordered a drink and the bartender was about to add it to John’s check until a gentleman slid up to the bar next to Madge. While John and Kathleen watched, Madge and her mark talked and flirted for a while. Then Madge excused herself and sashayed to another area of the bar, leaving the gentleman dumbfounded.  

“I think that’s one,”  John commented mildly.  

“How can you be so sure she wasn’t turned down?” Kathleen murmured as she raised her wine glass to her lips.

John was staring at Madge’s line as she walked around the bar. “‘Cause no man here is going to turn _that_ down.”  

“Oh, _really_?!” Kathleen said, in a teasingly accusatory tone.

“Well, no man who doesn’t have you to go home with, that is.”

“Nicely played.”

“I’ve been known to talk my way out of trouble from time to time.” John grinned at Kathleen.

“And into it too,” she shot back.

They both laughed. John and Kathleen were wrapping up their after dinner bourbons when Madge came waltzing back over.

“Well?” Kathleen demanded as John stood up and pulled out Madge’s chair.

Madge sat with a bit of a plop as the alcohol started catching up with her.

“I could have had three johns tonight!” she said excitedly. “And all of them were nicer and willing to pay a lot more than the guys that came into Fat Jim’s. I would have just needed a place to take them.”  

“We’re taking care of that at the new place,” John told her.

“And they’re called _clients_ ,” Kathleen added pointedly. “Not _johns_.”

“Really?” Madge asked, a little stunned. “I’m gonna -- going to -- have a place of my own?”

“Yes,” John replied, placing his hand around Kathleen’s. “Kathleen told me your wish list and I think they are great ideas: _money_ _making_ ideas. Especially if you look like this all the time.” John cleared his throat. He lit another cigarette before continuing. “Protection is paramount with ‘ _escorts’_ ” he used his fingers to create air quotes “Paulie and Gene are gonna hire some additional help, but that’s nothing they can’t handle. Having places of your own to live and work in will make things easier. Plus access to the salon for free is going to be a hell of a perk.” John smiled as both girls’ eyes lit up. The salon was never discussed with Kathleen, but watching Madge work this impossible room made him see the potential higher class women had. “Now, my ladies, I believe it’s time we take our leave. A night cap is in order to celebrate Madge’s triumph.”

John escorted both ladies out of the restaurant and back to the hotel. As he walked arm and arm with Kathleen and Madge, he noticed how many heads turned for a second look. Kathleen leaned into him with each step. Holding his arm tightly, her hips swung back and forth in the tight skirt. Madge’s grip around his arm less tight, but she bumped against him almost playfully.

“Madge, honey, you should stay the night,” Kathleen suggested as Madge went to press her floor number.

“That’s a good idea,” John agreed mock seriously. “Don’t want you walking five flights down to your room at this hour.”

“We’ve got the extra bedroom you can use.” Kathleen was saying one thing, but her eyes were saying something completely different.

While she talked, Kathleen’s ran her hands hands up and down John’s arm and traced the lines of his lapel, but she never took her eyes off Madge.

The elevator opened and Madge stepped out first. John watched Kathleen’s eyes trace down Madge’s back and settle on her ass. Unsure of Kathleen’s newest interest in Madge, John watched curiously as the girls went to the bar and fixed three bourbons.

“He likes it neat,” Kathleen told Madge as the second girl was about to drop ice cubes in John’s glass.

“Right. Sorry.” Madge poured John’s drink while Kathleen leaned against the bar next to her and watched.

“Madge?”

“Yeah -- I mean, yes?”

“How familiar are you with threesomes?” Kathleen asked, lowering her voice so John couldn’t hear.

The bourbon bottle rattled against the lip of a second glass as Madge’s hand shook. She glanced at Kathleen out of the corner of her eye. Kathleen waited for an answer, toying with the third, empty glass.

“Why?” Madge whispered.

“Well, honestly, I think it would a nice way to say thank you to John.” Kathleen met Madge’s gaze. “And me.”

“Oh.” Madge’s voice was small. “I didn’t think that was a thing you’d do.”

“Do?” Kathleen asked.

“Share him,” Madge replied.

“You’ve had him before, haven’t you?” Kathleen asked, not sure if she really wanted to know the answer once she asked the question.

“Sure.” Madge shrugged, guilelessly. “We all did.”

Kathleen felt like the air had been knocked out of her. She’d started this and now she had to finish it, but that didn’t mean hearing the truth out loud didn’t still sting.

“All?”

“Yeah.” Madge raised her eyes to Kathleen, who couldn’t miss the prideful look Madge was giving her. “ _All_ of us.”

 _Right,_ Kathleen thought. _You_ _had him first. But_ _I’ll_ _have him last._ Kathleen shook the visual out of her head. _Right. Enough of that nonsense._

“So, are we taking him to bed together so you can fuck him one more time or am I fucking him alone while you listen through the wall?” Kathleen asked.

Madge’s eyes hardened. “I’m gonna fuck you both.”

Kathleen ran her finger over the back of Madge’s hand lightly, then picked up her glass.

“That’s a good girl.” Kathleen started to turn away, but then glanced over her shoulder at Madge. “Oh, and Madge? This is the last time you even _remotely_ consider fucking my boyfriend. If I find out you even _looked_ at him with hot eyes, you’ll find yourself in a hole in the desert. Maybe dead. Probably still alive.”

John took the drink from Kathleen who joined him on the couch next. Madge sat in one of the chairs at a 45 degree angle to them across the small table. He was totally unaware what had happened between the girls, who were now exchanging quick glares at each other.  

“As I was saying downstairs … ”John continued laying out his plan for Madge.

Madge contributed a few minor wishes that Kathleen had already mentioned but John forgot to highlight during the original conversation. Then John asked the question he was leading up to with all this talk about the future.

“I want to ask you both something that dawned on me the other day while Kathleen and I were talking with the bosses. I thought of again tonight watching you, Madge.”

“Go ahead,” Kathleen encouraged, leaning against John’s arm.  

John lit two cigarettes and handed one to each of them before lighting his own. “What do you think about hiring girls to be bartenders?”

“Bartenders?”  Madge questioned, her mouth agape a bit.

Kathleen smiled wryly, first at John then at Madge. “I think it’s a great idea.”  

“Pretty girls bring men to bars. If they’re working the board, that’s even better,” John explained. “Some guys just want some conversation with a girl they couldn’t ever get.”

“Or don’t have at home,” Kathleen quipped, making them all chuckle.

“I bet I could help find some girls to bartend,” Madge said excitedly.

“Haven’t we covered the club enough?” Kathleen asked, putting a damper on the conversation. “I know little Madge just _loves_ every idea, but I'd like to go to bed.”

Kathleen got off the couch, holding onto John’s hand as she slowly stepped away before letting it fall back to the couch. John watched her walk toward the bedroom. Kathleen peeked over her shoulder at him as she left the room, arching an eyebrow suggestively.

“Night, Madge,” John said hurriedly as he scrambled to his feet. “I trust you’ll be okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said as she watched Kathleen walk to the bedroom.

Kathleen shot Madge a glance as she stepped into the bedroom and John came up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pushed her into the room. Slamming the door shut behind him, John kissed the nape of Kathleen’s neck, walking her toward the bed. Kathleen reached between them for John’s cock, rubbing the hard bulge up and down through his pants.

John’s hands moved over Kathleen’s tits, kneading them over her blouse. He worked on the remaining buttons as Kathleen slid her hand into his pants through the open zipper. John concentrated on kissing, nibbling, and sucking her neck and earlobe as the last button let go and Kathleen’s blouse fell open.  

Kathleen suddenly pulled free from John’s embrace and stepped away.

“Wait,” she whispered, breathing hard.

“ _Not_ again!” John exploded. “Wait for _what_!?”

Kathleen walked to the bedroom door and swung it open, a smile curling on her red lips. “For Madge.”

Madge was standing at the doorway, ready to be let in. While John watched, shocked, Madge strode inside and waited until Kathleen shut the door. Madge pressed herself against Kathleen and kissed her on the lips gently.

“Are we good?” Madge asked, running her hands over the tiny, cinched waist the corset gave her boss.

“Perfect,” Kathleen told her before kissing Madge again. “For now,” Kathleen added in a whisper that only Madge could hear when their lips parted.

“Umm … ” John stammered, staring at Kathleen and Madge kissing. He stood, frozen to the floor, unsure of what to do as the shock of seeing two beautiful women kissing and petting each other overwhelmed him.

John blinked as Madge’s hand slid up Kathleen’s torso and over her tits, squeezing them gently. Kathleen moved her hands over Madge’s ass, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the floor around her feet.  John moved toward them quickly, pulling at his shirt.

“Not yet,” Kathleen ordered. She held her hand up in John’s direction as Madge unhooked her corset and it fell away from her body. “I’ll tell you when you can come play too.”

“Yeah, Mr. Bianco. Ladies first,” Madge added as she lowered her head and licked Kathleen’s nipples.

Kathleen’s moans encouraged Madge and frustrated John even more. Kathleen gripped the back of Madge’s head and pulled her tighter into her breasts. Madge held onto Kathleen’s ass as she flicked her tongue over Kathleen’s nipples, nibbling on them. Madge unzipped Kathleen’s skirt while Kathleen pulled Madge out of her sweater. Once both of them were just in what remained of their lingerie, Madge moved her mouth back to Kathleen’s lips to kiss her again. Tired of just being a spectator, John walked up behind Madge.

“I said not yet!” Kathleen reminded John over Madge’s shoulder.

“And I don’t care,”  John snapped as he ran his fingers over Madge’s shoulders and down her arms.

Kathleen locked eyes with John while he ran his hands across Madge’s body. He didn’t break eye contact for even a second, even as he kissed Madge on the shoulder and neck.

“Okay,” Kathleen agreed softly. She knew instinctively that she was no longer had any control of the situation and that thought turned her on even more.

John guided the three of them to the bed: Kathleen walking backwards with Madge sandwiched between Kathleen and John. Madge kept kissing Kathleen until the back of Kathleen’s knees hit the edge of the bed, forcing her to sit in front of Madge. John unhooked Madge’s bra and cupped her breasts in his strong hands.

Madge moaned loudly as John squeezed her tits and pinched her nipples. She slid one hand behind her and rubbed John’s dick through his pants, the other hand slid down from Kathleen’s chin over her breasts and down between her thighs.  

Kathleen spread her legs apart as Madge’s fingers traced over her panties. She leaned back on the bed as Madge slipped her hands beneath the edge and pushed her panties aside.

“Oh God, yes,”  Kathleen moaned as she squirmed in anticipation.

John ran his hand from Madge’s breasts down her hips to the top of her panties. Hearing the reaction from Madge encouraged John even more. He pulled her panties down to the floor and dropped to his knees behind her.

Madge bent over after stepping out of her panties. She pulled Kathleen’s off,  slipping them over her ass and off her hips. Kathleen moaned while Madge peeled her panties off her legs. Madge lowered her head between Kathleen’s thighs. She slowly spread Kathleen’s lips apart and buried her mouth between them before slipping two fingers inside of her. Kathleen squealed with pleasure at the softness of Madge’s touch, gripping the bed tightly as pleasure nearly overcomes her instantly.

Kathleen’s whimpers echoed in John’s ears as he tried to concentrate on rubbing Madge’s clit from behind before pressing his tongue inside of her. Madge’s gasp propelled him closer to her, trying to fuck her pussy with his tongue. He moved a hand down to his belt and undid his pants while pleasing Madge with the other.  

Madge loud moans vibrate against Kathleen’s pussy, breaking Kathleen’s concentration.

“Madge?” she gasped, opening her eyes. Kathleen looked down at the top of Madge’s head and moved her hips in rhythm to everything Madge was doing.  

John pulled his tongue from Madge, who groaned at the loss of it, and stood up. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and surveyed the scene before him, hands on his hips. Kathleen looked at him standing there in his boxers and growled in her throat, eyes narrow at the sight of him watching her. She pushed Madge’s head away from her clit as John crawled onto the bed next to Kathleen.

“Happy?” she asked him as she kissed him. Pressing her lips to his, Kathleen could taste the unfamiliar, yet deliciously sexy Madge on his lips.

“Very,” John replied.

“Good” Kathleen and Madge said in unison as Madge climbed onto the bed on the other side of John.  

John leaned over, kissed Madge and then Kathleen again. Both girls looked at each other and leaned over John to kiss. Kathleen dropping her hand down to John’s hard dick and was met there by Madge’s hand a second later. They giggled a little as they kissed each other over John’s chest. Kathleen wrapped her fingers around John’s cock, stroking it gently up and down. Madge cupped John’s balls, tickling them a little with her sharp fingernails.

John inhaled sharply as both women kissed and licked there way down his chest. John let out a long, shaky breath as Madge and Kathleen started licking, sucking, and stroking his dick in tandem. He closed his eyes, moaning in the back of his throat as two tongues and two mouths tangled around themselves and his cock at the same time. He stopped moaning and opened his eyes when the wet tongues disappeared and he felt the bed shift.

Kathleen had crawled on top of him, straddling his dick as she working herself down on it.  John reached up to cup her tits but only for a second as Madge swung her leg over his head. The girls faced each other on top of John: Kathleen grinding up and down on John’s dick while Madge rode his face. The girls twisted and grabbed each others’ breasts as they moaned and panted. John started to moan into Madge’s pussy, making her roll her pussy against his mouth harder, as he thrust his hips against Kathleen more fiercely.

Kathleen let out a shriek as she came, arching her back, rolling her hips against John a few more times as she came again. Madge stiffened her whole body, leaning forward as she came, her forehead almost on John’s belly. John plunged deeper and harder into Kathleen as he finally finished inside her.  

Madge and Kathleen kissed as they slide off John and collapsed on the bed on either side of him. John pulled both of them to his side, wrapping an arm around each girl. Kathleen settled her head in the hollow of his shoulder while Madge rested hers on John’s chest. Just as John was about to drift off, he faintly heard this exchange:

“Don’t forget what I told you.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Too satiated to care what that meant, John sighed happily as he felt two different mouths on two different girls kiss him good night at the same time.


	9. Chapter 9

John and Kathleen pulled up in front of the half-demolished building that was once Fat Jim's bar. Workmen milled about, chucking boards and bricks into construction dumpsters.

“What do you think, Kitten?” John asked, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“I think it looks like a half-crushed pile of rubble, sweetie,” Kathleen replied.

John let out an annoyed grunt. “Jesus, Kathleen. Think big! Isn't that what we're supposed to be doing? This is our future.”

Kathleen's doubtful face couldn't be missed. “I know. I'm trying. I just …”

John squeezed Kathleen's hand. “Okay, Kitten. Just wait here a minute.”

John worked his way over to the site foreman, who was watching his men but not doing much else.

“Thompson,” John said quietly.

The foreman started at John's voice and turned quickly to face him. A look of worry flashed across the man's face, replaced immediately by a sycophantic smile.

“Mr. Bianco! Nice to see you!” he said, a little too heartily. “No one said you were coming today.”

John fixed the man with an even glare. “How are we coming along?”

“Great. Just great,” Thompson replied. “As you can see.”

Thompson motioned to the scene behind him. John kept staring at Thompson until the man finally stopped gesturing wildly and settled down.

“I expected more progress by now,” John said.

“We're making swell progress, Mr. Bianco,” Thompson insisted.

John drew in a deep sigh, his face impassive, eyes flicking over the site. Thompson's crew _was_ making swell progress, but not fast enough.

“Hire more men,” John finally ordered.

Thompson exhaled, not even realizing he'd been holding his breath. John turned to leave, the other man nipping at his heels as John strode back to his car, babbling about more men and longer hours, and working Sundays. John shot Kathleen a quick glance, which she read immediately.

“Miss,” Thompson greeted Kathleen as he stumbled over a board. “How are you?”

“Hmm.” Kathleen slipped on her sunglasses, freezing Thompson out. She got back into the car without a second glance.

John opened his door and paused before he slid back behind the wheel.

“I'll be back in a week,” John told Thompson, who looked horrified at the thought. “I expect to see the slab poured by then.”

The look on Thompson’s face was a mad mix of terror and uncertainty.

“A slab in a week?” he finally said. “Mr. Bianco, I dunno --”

“One slab in one week, Thompson, and I'm being more than generous with the timeframe.” John got in the car.

As he pulled out of the site, Kathleen glanced his way.

“Is it weird that I am _completely_ turned on right now?” she asked.

“Nope,” John replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “You like it when I'm dominant. Even when it's not with you.”

Kathleen grinned and scooted over to snuggle under his arm. “That's true.”

John pointed the car back to the hotel as he felt Kathleen's warm hand on his thigh.

“Kitten,” he said, hating himself a little, “I have a meeting after I drop you home.”

“What?” Kathleen asked. “I thought you were free all afternoon.”

Kathleen's lips grazed John's neck as her hand slid further up his leg. John could feel her breasts against his ribs, the smell of her perfume (the good stuff, the stuff that made him crazy, the stuff Kathleen called “Rape” because of his reaction to it) filling his senses.

“It just came up,” John told her, trying to keep his voice even.

Kathleen giggled, cupping the hardening bulge in the front of his pants.

“ _Something_ just came up,” she teased.

 _Goddamn_ , John thought. “Later, Kathleen, I promise,” he said aloud.

“Mmm … promise promise?” Kathleen whispered, the tip of her tongue tracing the outer shell of his ear as she massaged him through his pants.

“Stop with the ear. You know I hate that,” John snapped with more heat than he felt. “And, yes, I promise to screw you silly later.”

Kathleen untangled herself from John's embrace as he pulled up in front of the hotel. She gave him one final squeeze before the valet opened her door.

“Have a good meeting,” she said sweetly as she exited the car. “Oh, and, John?”

“What?” John barked, desperate to be away from her.

“Bring home some lubricant.” Kathleen blew John a kiss and walked away.

“God, how I hate her,” John muttered to himself through clenched teeth as he drove away again, his dick throbbing.

John drove down the strip to Carlo Gato’s restaurant. He had the finest Italian restaurant west of Chicago. Every one of the workers were off the boat like Carlo, many of whom spoke little to no English. While the food was fantastic, the employees’ complete lack of English and inability to repeat the gossip they heard was why La Strada was a more popular establishment.

John pulled up and a valet opened his door.

“Keep it close, kid.” He palmed the boy a $20.

“ _Si, signore_ _._ ”

John walked into the dimly lit restaurant, squinting. Approaching the host podium, John smoothed his already-smooth tie.

“ _Come ti chiami?_ ” the host asked.

“Mr. Bianco for Mr. Gato,” John said in a monotone voice as he scanned the room.

“ _Proprio in questo modo_ _._ ” The host led John to a corner booth and added in heavily-accented English, “He will be out momentarily.”

As John sat at the nicest table in the restaurant, he intentionally did so with his back to the door, showing Gato the respect to allow him to put his back in the corner like he always sat. The clicking of the heels as a person exited the kitchen and the heavy steps walking up behind him gave John no worry. A hand that clasped him on the shoulder as John turned his head to see Gato smiling at him.

“Giovanni,” Gato said with a grin. “What do I owe this honor? You were rather secretive on the phone, even for us.”

Gato let out a hearty laugh. John laughed politely as he stood and shook Gato’s hand.

“Mr. Gato,” he greeted the elder boss.

They sat across the table from each other. The waiter walked over with some bread and waters.

“Two bourbons, neat.” Gato tells the waiter who scurries off to retrieve the drinks. “How’s that girl of yours?”

“She’s fine, thank you,” John said politely.

“Fine-looking woman, that Caterina of yours,” Gato went on. He took a moment to very obviously daydream about Kathleen as John cringed imperceptibly at the sleazy way Kathleen’s Italianized name sounded on the other man’s lips. Then Gato added, “So, what do you need, Giovanni?”

“I need your assistance with two things,”  John began as the drinks arrived. “Saluti!” he said, raising his glass and taking a long sip. “I need your help getting more workers involved at my resort. The foreman in charge today is weak-minded and spineless. I keep having to check on him, push him to get things done in the time frame we set. As you know, we cannot allow any delays with the construction.” John took another long pull off his bourbon. “Don’t get me wrong,” he went on. “He’s doing his best, but he’s out of his league with our project. I need him replaced or demoted, but _not_ eliminated. He’s a good man, but not to work a job this size.”

Gato nodded his head in agreement.  “And the second item?”

“We can not have a headless faction running around town,” John shook his head and continued. “Some of the goons have stolen cars, jewelry, and cash from a few pawn shops. All of these items and locations fall under one of our colleges or another's protection. I suggest we divvy up the rouge resources and fold them into the various businesses that best suit their talents.”

Gato snorted. “And I suppose you have a plan for doing that?”

John shook his head. “Not even the slightest. That’s why I’ve come to you.”

John smiled graciously, knowing that stroking Gato’s ego just a little would get him to do what he wanted. “I need you to figure out how to get control of this now that Salvatore Campanelli’s is gone.”

Gato looked skeptical. “Does this order come from Setaro?”

“No.” John shook his head. “This is my idea. And it needs to be taken care of before things get out of hand.” John finished his drink. “Take whatever and whoever you want, just make sure the other bosses get a piece so they feel better about how things panned out.”

“I knew whacking that moron was the way to go,” Gato chuckled, looking pleased with himself.

“You ordered it?” John tried to keep the shock out of his voice.

“Yeah,” Gato said, raising his voice a bit. “Why?”

“Was it sanctioned?” John asked, toying with his empty glass.

“Hell no,” Gato said, sliding out of the booth. “Sal was right about one thing: Setaro can’t control us from his office in Chicago and he sure as fuck don’t care about us out here so long as money flows back to him.”

John stood up, joining the older man strolling to the exit. “What happens if he _does_ care about Campanelli getting whacked?”

“It’s been two months.” Gato shrugged. “Trust me, he don’t care.”

John shook his head.

 _I hope, for your sake, you’re right, Gato,_ he thought silently.

John shook Gato’s hand. “So, we have a deal?”

“Yeah.” Gato smiled. “We got a deal. I’ll have 50 more guys onsite tomorrow and a new foreman.”

“Good, and the existing foreman will be … ” John trailed off intentionally.

“Put in charge of the electricians or the carpenters.” Gato waved one hand dismissively. “Something smaller and more suited for his abilities.”

The two men shook hands and parted ways. John drove back home as fast as he could to get back to Kathleen. The smile on his face was all about how well the meeting went plus the thought of what he was going to do with Kathleen when he got back home.

Kathleen wandered aimlessly around the penthouse. There wasn't much to do. The only television programs on were for kids, she had read all her magazines, and years of solitude with Richie Robertson had made making friends difficult.

Sighing, Kathleen kicked off her flats and curled up on the couch with a notebook and pen, prepared to make a list of the items she wanted to order for the resorts’ guest rooms.

The sound of the phone ringing interrupted Kathleen's train of thought about an hour later. It was the in-house phone, which meant the front desk was calling. Puzzled, Kathleen picked up the receiver.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Mrs. Bianco, there's a gentleman from Chicago on his way up,” said the desk clerk on the other end.

Kathleen's heart leapt into her throat. She clutched the phone with white knuckles.

“Did you explain that Mr. Bianco isn't in?” she demanded.

“Yes, ma'am,” the clerk replied. “But the gentleman was quite insistent in going up.”

“Thank you.” Kathleen dropped the phone and ran to the door to lock it, skidding across the marble floor in her stocking feet.

Once the door was secure, Kathleen grabbed the .22 revolver from her bedside table drawer. The gun had once belonged to Fat Jim, but Kathleen had claimed it after the shootout. She had never once fired it, but it was comforting to have it.

Standing on the other side of the locked room, Kathleen heard the elevator door slide open. A pair of shoes approached the door slowly. Kathleen's heart pounded against her chest. Her fingers curled tighter around the revolver as she drew it up closer to her chest.

A sharp knock almost made Kathleen leap out of her skin. She took a deep breath as a second knock landed.

“Yes?” she called. Her voice almost sounded normal, despite her terror. “Can I help you?”

“I'm here to see Giovanni Bianco,” said a deep voice from the other side of the door.

“I’m so sorry,” Kathleen replied. “He isn't in right now.”

“I'd like to come in and wait for him.”

 _I bet you fucking would,_ Kathleen thought but said, “I can't let you in.”

A chuckle disarmed Kathleen. “Don't you know how a lock works?”

Kathleen bristled. “Excuse me?”

“The word 'can’t’ implies you have no notion how a doorknob lock works,” the voice said pleasantly. “I think you're implying you _won't_ unlock the door and let me in.”

Kathleen felt herself blush. Before she could reply, the voice continued, “I really do insist on being let in.”

Kathleen wavered, panicking.

“I shouldn't,” she said.

“I'm from Dominic Setaro.” The friendly tone of voice was gone. “Let me in.”

Kathleen immediately reached over and unlocked the door, tucking her gun hand into her slacks pocket. On the other side of the door was a tall, thin man with a sallow complexion and hooded black eyes. Kathleen's breath stopped. He looked like a murderer. She was sure John was going to come home and find her brains splattered across the floor.

“Please come in,” Kathleen said, stepping aside.

“Thank you.” The thin man stepped in, handing her his hat. “That's very nice of you.”

Kathleen placed his hat in the hall table, then gestured into the sitting room with her free hand. “Of course. Please.”

The man from Dominic Setaro gestured into the sitting room too. “Ladies first.”

Kathleen paused. If she went first, he could easily shoot her in the back of the head. They both waited for the other to walk in first.

“I truly insist: ladies first,” Dominic Setaro’s man said in a voice that brokered no argument.

Kathleen straightened her shoulders and walked into the room, sure she would hear the click of a revolver’s hammer at any second. When no gunshot rang out, Kathleen turned to see the thin man settling his long frame into John's armchair. Breathing heavily, Kathleen tried to arrange her face in pleasant lines.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked.

“I'll have a glass of milk. I don't drink. And you can leave your revolver on the table.”

“How did --” Kathleen began. Without finishing and against her better judgement, Kathleen laid her .22 on the coffee table and picked up the phone to order milk from room service.

The thin man's hooded eyes followed Kathleen around the room. Once Kathleen sat back down in the sofa, she wasn't any calmer, but she was resigned to the fact she was stuck with this visitor until John got home.

“I didn't catch your name,” she said, tucking her legs under her.

“I'm Nicolo Setaro, my father's consigliere,” the thin man replied, his friendly voice back.

Kathleen swallowed hard. Nicolo Setaro? Here? In Las Vegas? Oh, this wasn't good at all.

“What brings you to Las Vegas, Mr. Setaro?” Kathleen asked.

Nicolo Setaro’s smile didn't reach his eyes. “I believe that is a discussion for Mr. Bianco and I.”

“Yes, of course,” Kathleen agreed hurriedly.

“And you are … whom, exactly?” Nicolo Setaro asked.

“I'm Kathleen,” she replied. Nicolo Setaro waited until Kathleen finished, “Jo -- Giovanni's girl -- fian -- wife.”

“We weren't aware Mr. Bianco was married.” Nicolo Setaro looked thoughtful. “Do you have any children?”

Kathleen felt her cheeks redden. “No.”

“Not _yet_.” Nicolo Setaro almost sounded like he was correcting her.

A knock on the door signalling the arrival of Nicolo Setaro's milk gave Kathleen an easy escape from a conversation she didn't want to continue. Married, no children _yet._ The lies fell off her tongue too lightly.

Nicolo Setaro accepted his milk graciously, sipping it like a polite child. He and Kathleen sat in silence for what felt like 100 years before Kathleen heard the elevator doors slide open.

“Kitten!” John called. “I'm home.”

Kathleen leaped to her feet as John entered the room. He flung his hat onto a nearby table and bounded across the room in long strides, holding a small, brown paper bag.

“Hey, Kitten,” he said, grabbing her around the waist and kissing her hard without realizing they weren't alone. He pulled his lips away from her unresponsive mouth. “What's wrong?”

“Giovanni, we have a guest,” Kathleen said, her voice shaking. “This is Mr. Nicolo Setaro from Chicago.”

Nicolo Setaro stood, towering over John and Kathleen, holding his hand out to be shaken. John faltered for half a second before letting Kathleen go to grasp the thin man's long hand.

“Welcome to Las Vegas, Mr. Setaro,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Bianco,” Nicolo Setaro replied.

“What brings you out west?” John asked.

Nicolo Setaro met Kathleen's eyes and replied, without breaking the gaze, “That is business of a personal matter best discussed in private.”

“Of course,” John agreed smoothly. “We can speak in my office.”

“Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Bianco,” Nicolo Setaro said, flashing sharp teeth at Kathleen in what she assumed he thought was a pleasant smile.

“Very nice, Mr. Setaro.” Kathleen smiled back, her hands trembling.

Nicolo Setaro turned and headed in the direction John had indicated. Right before John left the room with him, Kathleen grabbed John's forearm.

“I love you,” she whispered desperately.

John touched her face briefly, smiling that smile Kathleen loved, before leaving her standing alone in the sitting room. The click of John's office door closing after them was like a shotgun blast.

John walked around the desk.

“Mr. Setaro, how can I be of service to you and your father?”

He looked at Nicolo. Taking a calculated risk, John removed his jacket and unclipped his holster. He watched Nicolo intently as he removed them and hung, first the holster and then his jacket, over the back of his chair.

Nicolo didn’t flinch as John fiddled with his jacket and gun.

“Mr. Bianco, please. Relax. If my father wanted you dead, I would have killed your wife and displayed her body so that image was the last thing you saw before I shot you.” Nicolo’s voice almost sounded friendly, even if his words couldn’t be more threatening. He sat down across from John. “We understand that Salvatore Campanelli has been disposed of.”

John nodded his head, not offering up any information.

“My father would like to know who ordered the hit and expects you to find out.” Nicolo leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t need to find out,” John said. “I already know who ordered the hit.”  

“And you’ve been keeping this from us?” Nicolo asked, his tone a little icier than a moment ago.

“Not at all.” John shook his head. “I just came from a meeting with Carlo Gato to get a new foreman and some additional workers to keep momentum going at the construction site. I also asked him to help with Salvatore Campanelli’s crew running amuck. I can’t have people bringing any unwanted attention to the construction site. Gato bragged about taking care of Campanelli.”

“In that case, my father would like you to take care of Mr. Gato for him.”

“Respectfully, Mr. Setaro,” John said with all the confidence he could muster. “I can’t do that.”

Nicolo’s expression changed for the first time since they sat down. It was a mix of shock, awe, and intrigue all jumbled together. Very few people said no to him and even fewer lived to regret it. In John’s case, he guessed intrigue was the emotion that won out.  

“I need Mr. Gato to split Salvatore Campanelli’s men up between the rest of the bosses here.”

“Why is that, Mr. Bianco?”  Nicolo said with such sincerity that it scared John.

“Because the other bosses here respect Mr. Gato. They’ve been doing their own thing out here for a long time.” John’s voice wavered just slightly. “Most of the bosses and men still look at me as an outsider. They like things the way they are and I’m bringing the attention of the entire family. I have ideas that your father seems to agree with, but they’re ... revolutionary.  Change is frowned upon out here.”

“Mr. Bianco,”  Nicolo said with an icy tone, “I will relay your concerns to my father tonight. For now, you may keep things status quo. However, when my father calls on you again, he will expect you to carry out his wishes immediately.”

“Understood, Mr Setaro.” John nodded slightly in agreement.

“Very good,” Nicolo said, standing up. “Now, I think it best that we open the office door before your wife’s heart stops. She is quite protective of you.”

“I agree. She is,” John said, shaking Nicolo’s hand. “However, she’s not my wife. Not yet anyway.” He opened the top desk drawer and pulled out a small box. Inside it, the diamond ring sparkled. “Soon enough though.”

The two men smiled as they opened the office door. They could hear from Kathleen gasp, her empty glass clattering down on the bar. The two men laughed as John pocketed the ring and walked out of the office. Kathleen rushed to the hallway and saw the two men. She leaned against the doorway, exhaling in relief.

“Kathleen,” Nicolo said with the friendliest and warmest voice imaginable, “I apologize for scaring your earlier this evening.”

“Oh, it’s -- it’s alright … I suppose …” Kathleen replied carefully, looking between John and Nicolo.

“My mother would be furious if she knew I frightened such a lady,” Nicolo continued. He offered Kathleen his arm. Hesitantly, Kathleen glanced John’s way before taking it. “Please allow me to take the two of you to dinner to make it up to you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex anyone?

Three days had passed since John thought Nicolo Setaro was sent by his father to kill him. After that meeting with Nicolo Setaro, John worried about Kathleen more than ever. Not because Nicolo Setaro said that if he’d been sent there to kill him, he would have killed Kathleen first but because he could be whacked. Kathleen would end up alone and broke. With no money, she’d end up working on the street and John couldn’t stomach the thought of her in that dire of a situation. He had promised her a better life than the one he dragged her from and he was going to provide it for her.

Waiting for Kathleen gave him more than enough time to double and triple check that he had the ring in his dark blue suit pocket, but he checked it again. John had been in meetings with some of the most dangerous men in the country and hadn’t felt nearly as nervous as he was feeling when Kathleen finally opened the bedroom door.

She was stunning. John’s jaw noticeable dropped as he jumped from the couch. She was wearing a long red skirt with a slit up the side. John followed that slit passed her knee and up to near mid-thigh. The rest of the dress left just as little to the imagination. It hugged her hips and waist like it was painted on. The plunging neckline of the spaghetti strapped dress showed her off her cleavage in a daring way. The pearls John gave to her on their trip to Vegas were around her neck, flanked by a set of pearl earrings that she picked up to complete the set a few weeks later. Her brown hair was down and sitting on her shoulders.

“Uhhhhhh …” was all John could muster as he stood up and took a second, lingering look. His nerves started acting up even more at seeing how stunning she looked.

“You like?” Kathleen said with an impish smile, spinning around in her stiletto heels and exaggerating her movements as much as possible to show off her curves.

“If that slit gets any higher or that top any lower, the entire restaurant will have a show with their dinner.” John eyed his girl appreciatively.

“Too much?” Kathleen said, turning around while looking over her shoulder at her backside. “I’ll change.”

“ _No_!” John exclaimed, closing the distance between them in a quick stride and taking hold of Kathleen’s bare arm. “Tonight is about you and I. And I can’t think of a better dress to show you off in.”

Kathleen smiled broadened and she kissed John on the cheek quickly before turning and heading toward the door. “Then let’s get going.”

“Been waiting on you,” John said, grabbing his hat and checking one final time that he had the ring in his pocket. “But, before we do, there is something I’ve got to ask you.”  He slowly dropped to one knee, taking the ring out of his pocket.  

Kathleen turned around and saw John on his knee and inhaled sharply, eyes widening, hand on her heart.

“Kathleen,” John paused for just a moment as they locked eyes. Words barely able to escape his suddenly dry mouth. “Will you marry me?” he croaked out as he opened the ring box.

Kathleen stood in shock, unable to say anything, she shook her head up and down. Tears threatened to spill over her eyelashes but she traced her cheekbones to stop them from running down her face.

“Yes,” she finally managed to whisper.  

John bounced to his feet and pulled the ring from the box, slipping it on the finger of the still shocked Kathleen. Dropping the ring box on the table next to them and sliding his hand into her brown hair, John pulled her face to his and kissed her hard. Parting her lips with his tongue as he kissed her deep and passionately, his tongue danced over hers. Slowly, he pulled his lips from hers, foreheads resting against each other.

“We’re going to be late to dinner,” he said as he pulled her to his chest.

“Who cares about dinner?” Kathleen asked breathlessly, her hands gripping the back of his jacket.

“The people meeting us at the restaurant all care,” John told her, tucking her hair over her shoulder, fingers trailing across her naked collarbone. “This is our engagement dinner.”

“What people?” Kathleen asked, composing herself, as they stepped out of the suite and onto the elevator.

“The usual crew, plus a few others.” John escorted her out of the elevator once it reached the lobby.  

They walked through the lobby, arm in arm. Kathleen’s heels clicking, her breasts bouncing perfectly, and her leg playing peek-a-boo in and out of her dress with every step. More than a few men turned to watch her walk pass. John tightened his grip on her hand, feeling her new piece of jewelry dig into his skin. It was a pleasing kind of dig. Another step in the direction of having it all.

The walk to La Strada was short. They were met at the door by Paulie.

“Boss, everything is set up inside,” he said into John’s ear. “Everything good with you?”

“Don’t worry, Paulie,”  Kathleen said, thrusting out her hand and showing him the ring. “I said yes.”

“I’m sorry, Paulie,” John said. “I told her about everyone because she didn’t want to come to dinner after she got that rock on her finger.”

“No big deal, Boss.” Paulie chose to ignore the implication of John’s statement as Kathleen laughed.

John turned to Kathleen. “Can you act surprised that everyone is here, Kitten?”

“Can Mickey Mantle hit?” she replied with a huge smile.

“Very nice, Miss,”  Paulie said as he opened the door. “Congratulations too.”

John escorted Kathleen into La Strada where the entire place turned to watch her walk in. Paulie had a full half of the restaurant reserved for them. Madge greeted Kathleen close to the door, taking her hand to admire the ring. As the girls walked away together, John noticed Carlo Gato sitting at one of the tables.  

“Paulie,” he said quietly. “What’s Gato doing here?”

“He came to offer his congratulations, Boss,” Paulie replied without moving his lips.

“Keep an eye on him for me.” John continued after Kathleen and Madge, taking a few quick strides to catch up to them, but relishing his time behind, as their hips swung perfectly with each step they took.

When they got up to the bar, John ordered a round of drinks for the entire restaurant and announced that Kathleen and he were engaged. Everyone there clapped, congratulated and toasted them, even though they had all been invited under the pretense that Kathleen was inevitably going to say yes.

As John looked around he noticed a few new girls standing around the bar. They were only noticeable because of the girls’ trademark pencil skirt and updo. Madge certainly knew how to pick them though. Each girl was talking to two or three guys at a time, flirting with them expertly. The conversations seemed light and none of the men looked jealous of the others. John’s expert eye skimmed over the girls quickly, noting that a particular redhead seemed to accumulating more men than the others.

_Gotta keep an eye on that one,_ John thought before turning his attention back to Paulie.

“Paulie, how’s security for our girls coming?” he asked, scanning the room one more time.

“Each girl has a guy here, Boss.”

“Well done, Paulie. Where’s Gene?”

“In the corner, keeping an eye on Mr. Gato.”

“Thank him for me later,” John ordered. “And make sure you switch out with him after dinner. I want to make sure he enjoys himself a little tonight too.”

“Course, Boss.”

John surveyed the place one last time, the few fresh faces had to be the girls’ security. Kathleen and Madge were off having a conversation while showing everyone the ring. John’s eyes settled on Thompson, the former head construction site foreman. He stood out in the crowd, looking very uncomfortable in his suit with a crooked tie and half-size too small jacket. John walked up to him.

“Thompson,” he said as the second man fumbled with his glass, “glad you can be here.”

“Thank you for having me.” Thompson sounded nervous.

John smiled, not exactly a nice smile, ruffling Thompson’s obviously ruffled feathers some more.

“How’s my building coming along?” John asked next.

Thompson looked uncomfortable. “I -- I don’t know, Mr. Bianco. I was replaced.”

“Oh? Were you?” John asked mildly. “What are you doing now?”

Thompson pulled on his already crooked tie, yanking it even more askew, his skin taking on a grey pallor.

“I’m supervising the electricians,” he replied, sounding sour.

John pretended to look surprised. “Is the electricity going in already?”

Thompson took a drink before muttering, “No.”

“Well,” John said cheerily, clapping the man on the back as he turned to walk away, “I’m sure you’ll be back on the site soon then.”

Thompson didn’t reply as John started walking away. It was low to belittle a man whose legs had been cut out from under him, but John chuckled to himself nonetheless. He was halfway across the room to where Kathleen was drinking wine with a few of her girls surrounding her, marvelling over her ring, but all John could see was the heavy-set form of Carlo Gato lumbering over to her.

_Shit!_ John thought, trying to speed up, but kept getting caught up with greeting another guest.

John peered over the shoulder of the man talking to him to see what was happening across the room with Kathleen. Gato had reached Kathleen, one meaty arm around her waist, one meaty hand on her hip, fingers curled a little too close to her pelvis for John’s liking. Kathleen’s head was tilted toward Gato as he whispered his her ear. Kathleen’s face was frozen in a polite smile, but the horror in her eyes was unmistakable. Gato was still whispering when Kathleen caught John’s eye.

_Save me!_ her look screamed.

“Excuse me.” John extracted himself away from the well-wishers and rushed across the room. “Mr. Gato!” John exclaimed, bursting into the monologue Gato had been whispering to Kathleen. “Can I steal my fiancée for dance?”

“Sure, Bianco, sure,” Gato agreed, looking pleased with himself. To Kathleen, he added, “Don’t forget what I said, _cara mia_.”

“I won’t,” Kathleen replied sweetly. She handed her wineglass to Madge as John led her away.

“What happened?” John asked. Kathleen’s hand was clammy and ice cold.

Kathleen smiled, shaking her head. Not a single person in the room could tell how she was really feeling, except John.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, grinning pleasantly. “It’s nothing.”

John spun Kathleen around as Sinatra’s _Witchcraft_ started playing. He pulled her close, his hand resting in the small of her back. Leading her around the dance floor, John could feel Kathleen’s heart racing against his chest.

“Tell me, Kitten,” he insisted.

“John, please don’t ruin our first dance,” Kathleen begged.

Against his better judgement, John held his tongue and kissed his fiancée. When their lips parted, over her head, John caught sight of Gato’s smug grin. Gato’s eyes dropped from John’s to drink in Kathleen in her red dress.

_I’m gonna kill that fat fuck,_ John decided.

The song ended and people applauded lightly. John whisked Kathleen to a corner table where Gene and Paulie were by the bar. As usual, neither man made much eye contact with the guests when they were in work mode, constantly scanning the room for any hint of trouble. Gene kept a close eye on Gato and his man.

Dinner was served and enjoyed without incident. John made certain that Kathleen stayed close to the table where Gene and Paulie could protect her easier until Gato left. John was standing at the bar when Gato slinked out without so much as a nod in his direction.

“Gene, Paulie,” John said, motioning over to them. “We need to get in touch with Dominic Setaro tomorrow morning about Gato.”

“We got that thing downtown in the morning, Boss,” Gene said as he smiled at Kathleen, who stood and walked toward the bar for another drink.

“I’ll reach out to them in the morning and set up a time for you to call him,” Paulie offered quietly.

“I think this conversation will be best face to face,” John countered. “Just set up a meeting in Chicago for any day after tomorrow.”

John, Gene, and Paulie relaxed. John ordered another round for the three of them as Thompson sheepishly walked up.  

“Thank you again for inviting me,” Thompson said. “And thank you for letting me stay on.”  

John nodded politely. “You’re a good man, Thompson. You were just out of your league with a job of that scale.” He shook Thompson’s hand. “Now, why don’t you order a dessert to go and take it home to your wife?”

“Yeah … okay.” Thompson smiled. His stress level visibly decreased as his shoulders relaxed and he walked away.

As the guests filed out and his girls seemed to have taken each of their clients and bodyguards from the restaurant, John turned his attention to his new fiancée. She was sitting at their table, staring dreamily at her ring.

“Hey, Kitten,” he said softly as he walked up. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Let’s go to a casino,” Kathleen suggested excitedly.

“Not tonight, Kitten,” John disagreed, shaking his head. “I’m taking you back home so I _know_ we’ll get lucky.”

“How can you be so sure?” Kathleen said with a devilish grin on her face as she stood up.  

John wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Because neither of us can resist the other.”

Kathleen licked her lips a little, arching one eyebrow. “God knows that’s true.”

Gene walked in front of them and opened the door. Paulie walked out behind them, the two loyal men flanking either side of them as John and Kathleen walked back to the hotel together arm and arm. John led Kathleen into the hotel elevator and waited for the doors to close.

The moment the doors shut behind them, John spun Kathleen around and pulled her against his chest.  His hand sliding down the small of her back, he pinned gently her to the wall of the elevator as he kissed her. Pressing his lips to hers and parting them when he slipped his tongue between hers to dance them together like a tango. His body weight pressed against Kathleen harder against the elevator wall. He slid his hand from the small of her back, over her hips, and up her sides. Kissing Kathleen passionately, John moved his hands over her breasts, squeezing and kneading them through her dress while she moaned in his mouth.

The elevator doors open and John walked Kathleen backward into the door, his lips moving from her mouth up her jawline to her earlobe. His breath tickling her ear, forcing a breathy giggle out of her. Pressing Kathleen against the heavy wooden door, John fished the key out of his pants pocket and unlocked the door.

Kathleen stumbled backward as John opened the door. John caught her by the arm before she fell.

“John!” she squealed, giggling, as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him again.

This time, John’s hands end up gripping Kathleen’s perfectly round ass.  John kissed and walked them to the living room couch where he steered Kathleen to the arm of the white sofa.  

Kathleen’s ass touched the side of the sofa and she propped herself up on it, wrapping her legs around John’s legs and pulling him against her.    
John’s hands squeezed her breasts through her dress as Kathleen started kissing his throat. John slipped the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders, his fingers grazing her spine before slowly lowering the zipper. He moved his hand to the nape of her neck, taking a handful of her loose hair and pulling her head back from his neck. Kathleen let out a low whimper as John pulled her head back far enough that her back arched, causing her dress to slip off her ample tits. John lowered his head and while pulling Kathleen’s head back, kissed her neck and down her chest, his free hand pulling her dress down around her waist. He buried his face in her cleavage, licking, kissing and nibbling while Kathleen’s hands scrabbled between them, unbuckling his belt. Kathleen reached into John’s pants, wrapping her fingers around the stiff length of his cock. John groaned a little as he moved his face and hands back over her perfect tits, sucking, licking, and biting.

Kathleen moaned, pressing John’s head into her chest.

“Baby,” she panted, “I need you. _Now_. Right now.”

“I know, Kitten,” John moaned as Kathleen started to stroke his dick.

John pulled his hips away from Kathleen’s grasp. Holding her hands, John pulled Kathleen to her feet, her dress slipping over her hips to land on the floor. John ran his fingers up her arms from her wrists over her collarbone and down her breasts, teasing her nipples for a second before finishing their playful journey to the top of her panties. Kathleen stepped out of her dress and back into John’s arms to be kissed deeply and passionately again. John slid his hands under her ass and picked her up off her feet. Kathleen wrapped her arms around John’s neck and legs around his waist tightly. John carried Kathleen to the bedroom, kissing her with every step he took, his strong hands squeezing her ass through her panties.

John sat Kathleen on her dressing table, the one with the mirror, before he let her strip off his clothes. Yanking off his jacket and tie, Kathleen got a good grip of John’s dress shirt and ripped it down the middle, sending buttons clattering all over the floor. John shoved his pants and boxers down.

“Lift that ass up,” John ordered, tugging her panties down her legs.

John spread Kathleen’s knees apart, stepping between her legs, to touch her again.

Kathleen shivered as John ran his hands over her naked skin. “John, please …”

“What?” John asked, his lips moving against the side of her neck. “You got somewhere to go?”

“God, no.”

“Then shhhhh and kiss me,” John requested.

Their lips met softly, sweetly. Kathleen’s legs wrapped around John’s thighs, feeling his hard cock against her. Their kiss kept going as John ran his fingertips over her back, down her spine, and up her belly to the swell of her breasts. John’s rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, making Kathleen moan into his mouth.

Pulling her lips from his, Kathleen leaned back against the mirror, the cold glass raising goosebumps on her skin, but she didn’t care. John twisted her nipples between his fingers, gently at first then harder, making her groan louder. One of his large hands slipped between her legs to tease her clit.

“John. Oh, John,” Kathleen breathed. “Don’t stop, love.”

John rolled two fingers in a circle over her clit as he suckled on her breasts. Kathleen could feel her core tightening at John’s touch and she moved her hips against his fingers. She started to cry out as her orgasm built. John’s fingers moved faster.

“Scream for me, Kathleen,” he whispered against the hot skin between her breasts.

Kathleen flung her head back, slamming it against the mirror, and arched her back as she came. John’s fingers kept moving and she came again, quickly and just as hard. Kathleen clutched the sides of the table to steady herself as she moaned again.

“John! Jesus Christ!” she exclaimed, her legs trembling. She wrapped her legs around his thighs tighter, pulling him closer to her. She could feel his rigid cock against her belly now. With one, sweaty-palmed hand, Kathleen worked the shaft of his dick, thumbing the pre-cum off the head to suck it off her finger.

John smiled at her, his lips curling wickedly. He removed her hand from his cock, clamping it to the side of the table again.

“Hold on,” he warned her. Clasping Kathleen’s hip in one hand, John used the other hand to guide his stiff dick into her soaked pussy. Kathleen lifted her hips off the table to meet the length of him, moaning at the feel of him inside her.

John moved slowly at first, with long, even strokes, enjoying the way it felt to pull out so far just to plunge back into her as deep as possible. Kathleen cried out with every thrust. Her noises prompted John to move faster. He wrapped both arms around her, crushing her against his hard chest and pounded.

Kathleen bit down hard on his shoulder as she came again, letting out a guttural cry. John let out a cry, tangling his hand in her hair to yank her head back and kiss her. That bite was definitely going to leave a mark.

“God,” he growled and came deep inside her.

John let Kathleen’s hair go, her head lolling back on her neck like she fainted. John admired her like that, her face red with exertion, skin slick with sweat, her pussy throbbing around his cock, breathing hard, a smug little smirk on her full lips. Kathleen opened her heavy-lidded eyes, looking up at John with a wet, satiated gaze.

“God above, John White,” she murmured breathlessly.

John arched one eyebrow, trying to look modest but failing miserably. “Yeah. I know.”

Kathleen slapped his chest, then ran her fingers over the flat plane of his stomach. Her eyes closed briefly, but not before John saw her eyes rolled back a little like she was getting turned on again. John pulled out slowly, just to tease her, which made Kathleen catch her breath with a small hitch.

“Ready for bed?” he asked.

Kathleen gave John a wry little smile. “But I’m not tired.”

John lifted her off the dressing table and put her on feet. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her deeply. Kathleen’s arms went around his waist to pull him closer and hold onto his ass.

“I don’t think I mentioned a thing about sleeping,” John whispered when their lips parted.


	11. Chapter 11

Kathleen stretched luxuriously, arms over her head. Her engagement ring sparkled in the dim light of dawn. As amazing as the night before had been, Kathleen had no doubt that this morning’s activities was going to be exciting.

Kathleen Flynn Robertson was getting divorced.

Six weeks in Vegas had come and gone. Kathleen was well-established with an impressive address in town. Gene was going to sign Richie Robertson’s name on the divorce papers. John was going to hand over a stack of money to make this quickie Vegas divorce to be the quickiest Vegas divorce Vegas had ever seen. Then Kathleen would be free of her old life utterly and completely.

Slipping out of bed, leaving John to sleep a little longer, Kathleen padded out of the room and into the bathroom. Waiting for the huge tub to fill always took forever, so Kathleen spent most of the time admiring her ring.

“I’m marrying John White,” she whispered. Looking up at her reflection, Kathleen winked at herself. “Can you believe that?” she asked her reflection. “You’re going to marry John White.” Kathleen snorted, looking back down at her ring. “You should have done this years ago.”

“I didn’t ask you years ago, Kitten,” John’s voice said from the doorway. 

Kathleen looked up and smiled at the John in the mirror. “You should have.”

John was leaning against the door frame in pajama bottoms, his arms crossed over his chest. He shrugged negligently. 

“And you should have told Richie Robertson to stuff it,” John told her.

Kathleen rolled her eyes, turning off the tap. “Yes, yes. We were both fools.”

Sliding into her hot bath, Kathleen slung one leg over the edge of the tub.

“Want to come in?” she offered. “Plenty of room.”

John shook his head, closing his eyes briefly, exhaling a little.

“I gotta make a call or two, baby,” he said. “I’ll take you up on that other time.”

“Too bad,” Kathleen called after him as he left the bathroom. “I was gonna wash all your hard to reach places.”

“I hate you, Kathleen,” John’s voice floated in from his office.

Kathleen let out a laugh.

An hour later, Kathleen was in her most respectable suit, ice blue with white trim. Her white gloves hid her huge engagement ring. There was no way her divorce was going to go awry by showing off her ring, but there was also no way she was taking it off.

“You ready yet?” Kathleen asked John through the bedroom door.

“I swear to God, Kitten, this is the only time you’ve ever been ready before me,” John replied.

Kathleen tapped her foot impatiently. “Well?”

“Five more minutes!” John mocked her oft-repeated phrase.

“Ugh!” Kathleen exclaimed. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Wait for Gene!” John shouted suddenly.

Kathleen was already halfway to the door. “I’m just going to the lobby. Stop worrying.”

“Kathleen! Goddamn it!” John whipped the bedroom door open, but the elevator doors were already closing after her.

In the lobby, Kathleen chose a chair nearest to the elevator to wait. The lobby was quiet this early in the morning, but the people who were milling about smiled at her. No one had to wonder who she was: Everyone knew the Biancos in the penthouse.

Edgy with nervous energy, Kathleen got up and paced around her chair a little. On one of her rotations the chair, Kathleen bumped into a man in a dark suit, who smelled of cigarettes and whiskey.

“I’m sorry!” Kathleen said hastily, smoothing her jacket.

“Quite all right,” said an eerily familiar voice.

Kathleen looked up and found herself face to face with Frank Sinatra. Kathleen couldn’t hide her excitement.

“You’re -- you’re--” she began.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

Kathleen let out a teenager-pitched giggle. “I can’t believe it. Frank Sinatra!”

“Are you visiting?” Sinatra asked.

“Oh, no,” Kathleen replied as her hand disappeared into Sinatra’s for a small shake. “I live here. In the penthouse with my fiance.”

Sinatra thought for a moment. “Bianco?”

Kathleen’s heart leaped into her throat. “Yes, Giovanni Bianco.”

“And you are?” 

“Kathleen Flynn,” she replied. “We’re from New Jersey too.”

Sinatra smiled. “Always nice to meet another Jersey resident. Well, I’m off.” He took her hand again and gave her gloved knuckles a light kiss. “Have a good day.”

“You too, Mr. Sinatra,” Kathleen managed to get out as the man himself walked away.

Sinatra turned and winked. “Frank.”

Kathleen put her hand over her mouth to smother another burst of giggles. The elevator that let John out let Frank Sinatra in. John did a double take as the doors closed. Frank Sinatra raised his hand to give Kathleen a final wave. John spun on his heel to see who Sinatra was waving at to catch Kathleen waving back.

“Are you waving at Frank Sinatra?” John asked when he reached her.

“I think he was flirting with me,” Kathleen replied, her cheeks pink.

John rolled his eyes as he took Kathleen’s hand, bemused. “Only you could be getting divorced while engaged and get hit on by Frank Sinatra.”

Gene, John, and Kathleen pulled up in front of the Las Vegas County Courthouse. Inside, on some insignificant clerk’s cluttered desk, was the stack of papers that would grant Kathleen her freedom from her nightmare marriage. She just had to get in there and sign them.

“You two are taking altogether too long,” Kathleen scolded the two men as they got out of the Thunderbird.

“Kitten, don't forget to look sad and contrite,” John reminded his grinning fiancee.

“Oh, yes.” Kathleen tried to arrange her features accordingly, but another smile broke through.

“Boss,” Gene said blandly, jerking a thumb at her.

John glanced Kathleen's way, annoyed.

“Kathleen!” he barked. “Sad!”

Kathleen rolled her eyes before pulling a face so downtrodden, John couldn't even imagine what she was thinking about.

In the courtroom, in front of the judge, Kathleen recounted the sad tale of her marriage: a whirlwind courtship, forced into an engagement by strict parents, isolation, beatings, humiliation. The listening audience glared at Gene, whose silent, hulking presence just added to the story.

_ But _ , John thought from his seat in the back row,  _ it's not  _ _ really _ _ a story. That all happened to her. _

It took five minutes after Gene corroborated Kathleen's speech for the judge to grant Kathleen her divorce. According to Las Vegas law, it would take another three weeks for the papers to be drawn up. $200 had the papers in front of Kathleen and Gene in three minutes.

Stepping out onto the courthouse steps into the bright Vegas sun, Kathleen yanked her white gloves off and dropped them on the ground. John stooped to pick them up, but Kathleen stopped him.

“Don't,” she said. “I'm never covering this ring up again.”

Kathleen held her left hand out to John, who brushed his lips over her knuckles, as Gene pulled the Thunderbird up to the curb.

“Congratulations on your successful divorce, future Mrs. Bianco,” John said.

Kathleen shook her head. “Future Mrs. White.”


	12. Chapter 12

John looked himself in the mirror. He pulled at the cuffs of his white, tailored shirt under his white, fitted tuxedo jacket.

“Paulie!” he yelled through the small suite two floors below the penthouse while checking his black bow tie in the mirror one final time. He walked out of the bedroom, putting on his watch. “Are you ready to go?”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Paulie said, walking around the corner and fiddling with his bow tie.

“What about you, Gene?”

Gene slipped his tuxedo jacket across his broad shoulders. “I’m ready.”

The ceremony and reception were taking place downstairs in the Convention Hall. A room designed to hold five hundred or more people seemed a little ambitious considering neither John nor Kathleen were going to have any family present. However, after John’s conversation with Dominic Setaro a few days after their engagement dinner, the list grew exponentially. Mr. Setaro was going to leave his office in Chicago to attend their wedding. Of course, this resulted in John being forced to invite every boss and all their men to the wedding. This prompted Kathleen to invite all the girls to the wedding. They racked up 400 people without breaking a sweat.

There were plenty positives to Dominic Setaro attending the wedding: none greater to John then his security measures. With every boss, underboss, _consigliere_ _,_   _caporegime,_  boss, and whatever soldier they felt necessary to bring with them on the guest list, things could have gotten a little ... touchy. With Mr. Setaro -- the collective’s Boss of all Bosses -- there, no one dare do anything stupid for fear of retribution. That meant both Paulie and Gene could enjoy themselves at the wedding without having to watch over anyone. And, with the people that will be there, they would have had a lot to look at.

Paulie and Gene escorted John to the elevator and down to the hall. He waited patiently for Kathleen to arrive, making small talk and greeting people that came up to him. Paulie and Gene sat guests as they arrived before taking up their positions as the priest signaled they were ready for the bride. Gene took up his position next to John as his best man while Paulie made his way back to Kathleen to escort her down the aisle.

John was more than a little nervous as he stood waiting for Kathleen. All of his nerves left him the moment she stepped onto the aisle and John was able to catch a glimpse of her.

“Wow,” John said softly.

The slightly off white, lace dress had a fitted bodice with see-through long sleeves, the smallest waist John had seen coupled with the fullest skirt Kathleen had worn since leaving New Jersey. The flared skirt stopped at mid-shin, added a little class to the wedding dress. The light blue hat matched her light blue stilettos and her bouquet of blue forget-me-nots and Queen Anne’s lace, pulling the ensemble together perfectly.

“She looks amazing, Boss.” Gene’s quiet voice broke into John’s thoughts.

“Yes.” John couldn’t take his eyes off Kathleen as she paused in the doorway of the large room. “Yes, she does.”

The pianist started playing and the crowd stood, craning to get a glimpse of the bride. Kathleen and Paulie made their way down the aisle together. Paulie was smiling just as broad as Kathleen while he escorted her to John. When the duo reached John, Gene, and the priest, Kathleen winked at John, who had to smother his laughter. Sassy wench.

“Who giveth this woman?” the priest asked.

“Me,” Paulie replied. Kathleen’s foot connected swiftly with Paulie’s ankle and he immediately corrected himself, “I do.”

Kathleen smiled up at her bodyguard. “Thank you, Paulie,” she said.

John took Kathleen’s hand and she stepped up next to him to face the priest.

“Let us pray,” the priest intoned.

The congregation of mobsters and their wives or girlfriends lowered their eyes. As the priest led them in a long prayer, Kathleen nudged John with her elbow.

“How did you get a priest?” she whispered without looking up from her shoes. “I’m divorced.”

“It’s amazing what money will do,” John muttered back out of the corner of his mouth.

Kathleen choked back a laugh as the priest sang out “Ahhh-men.”

John blanked out on most of the sermon, stealing glances at Kathleen, who was peeking back at him. If there was an Olympic medal for barely containing peals of hysterical laughter, they would have tied for gold.

All goofiness and mirth disappeared when John and Kathleen faced each other to exchange their vows. There had been some discussion as to what name John should use when saying his vows: Giovanni Bianco or John White.

“I’m marrying John White,” Kathleen said stubbornly. “I won’t say Giovanni Bianco.”

“Kitten, everyone here knows me as Bianco,” John snapped. “I can’t just come out with John White.”

“But, John --” Kathleen said desperately.

John put his hands up. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Giovanni, repeat after me,” the priest instructed. “I, Giovanni Bianco …”

John cleared his throat. “I, Giovanni Bianco”

(“john white,” he whispered to kathleen, who pressed her lips together to keep from crying.)

“take you, Kathleen Flynn, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part, according to God’s holy law.”

As the priest turned a little to look at Kathleen, John gave his almost wife a little smirk.

“Good enough for you?” he whispered.

“Perfect,” she whispered back.

“Kathleen, repeat after me,” the priest began. “I, Kathleen Flynn …”

Kathleen lift her chin a little. John leaned back a bit. He knew that face. What was she about to do?

“I, Kathleen Flynn, take you, Giovanni Bianco

(“john white,” john mouthed at her, winking)

“to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy law.”

“And obey,” the priest reminded Kathleen.

Kathleen kept looking at John, smiling a little.

“And obey,” the priest insisted.

Kathleen shook her head a little, lips curling into a smirk. John looked from Kathleen to the priest and back again, amused.

“And _obey_ ,” the priest said again, louder.

“No,” Kathleen said firmly. “I won’t say that.”

“Moving on,” John chimed in.

The priest made a huffy sound. “The rings?” he asked.

While Gene handed over the wedding bands, John shook his head at Kathleen.

“Only you, Kitten,” he murmured.

“I’m not saying ‘obey’ again,” Kathleen told him.

“You never have to.”

Rings on fingers, Lord’s Prayer, communion for the couple. The ceremony was dragging on and on. Kathleen started to shift a little as her heels started to pinch her feet. John was starting to really regret agreeing to a Catholic wedding Mass when the priest finally gave them his final blessing and announced,

“You may kiss your bride.”

 _Finally._ John grabbed Kathleen and practically sucked her lips off her face. There was some applause and laughter from the gathered congregation. To the strains of Beethoven's _Ode to Joy_ , John and Kathleen escaped down the aisle, finally able to start laughing as they went, relief that it was all over coupled with excitement.

“Another glass of champagne, Mrs. White?” John asked.

Kathleen lifted her goblet. “Thank you, Mr. White.”

Around them, the 400 guests milled about, eating hors d'oeuvres, talking, making deals, glowering at each other suspiciously. But John and Kathleen could care less. Let them do what they wanted.

“Honey?” asked a rough voice.

Kathleen turned to see an unfamiliar man with an overly-done up woman next to him standing over their table. John got to his feet to shake the stranger’s hand.

“Welcome to the family,” the man said, handing Kathleen a thick envelope.

“Thank you,” Kathleen said sincerely.

Glancing over the man’s shoulder, Kathleen could see their guests lining up, each holding an envelope. Kathleen looked up at John, who was standing behind her, a hand resting on her shoulder. Kathleen tucked the first envelope into the white satin bag hanging on the back of her chair.

One after another after another, Kathleen accepted envelopes while John thanked people and shook their hands. By the time dinner was served, the line had barely dissipated and Kathleen’s head was spinning. While eating, Kathleen’s mind kept wandering to the bulging bag behind her.

“Kitten,” John said, pouring her more champagne, “don’t look at the bag.”

“But, John,” Kathleen hissed, “there’s thousands of dollars in a silk bag hanging on the back of my chair.”

“I know.” John’s eyes sparkled. “And, later, we’re going to throw it all over the bed and I’m going to fuck you on it. But, right now, pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“Jesus!” Kathleen snorted. “Now that’s _all_ I can think about.”

“Shhh!” John’s voice was abrupt. “It’s Dominic Setaro.”

Kathleen and John both got to their feet as Dominic Setaro, his son Nicolo, and an older woman walked over.

“ _Complimenti a tutti e due,_ ” the woman said, grasping Kathleen’s hands and pulling her in for a loud kiss on the cheek.

“ _Grazie mille,_ ” Kathleen replied, accepting an envelope from Mrs. Setaro, this one thicker and longer than the rest.

“You speak Italian?” Mrs. Setaro asked in her heavily accented English, sounding impressed.

“Terribly,” Kathleen answered, making the group chuckle.

“Bianco, a word,” Nicolo Setaro said, touching John’s arm.

“Back in a minute, Kitten,” John said, kissing Kathleen’s cheek swiftly.

“Okay,” Kathleen agreed as Mrs. Setaro asked, “When you having the _bambini_?”

John escaped that particular conversation as Kathleen was shocked into an open-mouthed silence.

John was led out of the hall by Nicolo Setaro.

 _Poor Kathleen,_ he thought briefly as he walked away. _She’ll have to greet all the rest of those people by herself._

Once out the door and making their way down the hall to another room, Nicolo Setaro turned to John.

“My father wishes to speak to you and the other bosses this evening,” Nicolo Setaro said with the icy tone he used when speaking for his father. “He apologizes for interrupting your wedding with this matter, but he is leaving Vegas early in the morning to return to the comforts of his home in Chicago.”

“I understand,” John reassured him, “and it’s no inconvenience at all.”

“I’ll be staying a few extra days,” Nicolo Setaro continued with a sudden smile. “I enjoy the weather here.”

Nicolo Setaro walked into a smallish room off the large hall. The other bosses were gathered around two small tables.

John smiled politely as he entered behind Nicolo Setaro. Dominic Setaro stood in a corner, waiting for him to arrive.

“Thank you for allowing me a few moments during your wedding day, Mr. Bianco,” Dominic Setaro said. “I need to speak to all of you about our future here and there is no more fitting time than a wedding to discuss the future.”

Heads nodded in agreement and a few grunts could be heard affirming whatever Dominic Setaro said.  

“This town is booming like Chicago did 30 years ago, but there is a big difference,” Dominic Setaro continued. His tone started getting colder and his voice lowered with each word, forcing the men around the table to lean forward to hear Dominic Setaro. “The attitude and respect are _merda_. A boss is killed and no one asked my permission first. None of you even reported to me who ordered it: Mr. Carlo Gato.”

Dominic Setaro paused as he raised his head. John could see Nicolo Setaro standing in the back of the room. Nicolo Setaro pulled out a small gun with a silencer as he walked up behind Gato, who looked absolutely terrified.

John and Gato made eye contact. John couldn’t keep the smug look off his face and Gato knew in the last second that John was the one who turned him in.

“You --” Gato burst out as Nicolo Setaro pulled the trigger before Gato could finish his statement.

Gato slumped over the table, the small caliber weapon creating no collateral damage. John was amazed at the lack of blood.

 _You should have kept your hands to yourself,_ John thought, smoothing the front of his impeccable tuxedo jacket.

Dominic Setaro smiled. “Good riddance, Mr. Gato.”

There were small gasps of awe from the other bosses that were seated in the small room.

“He deserved that,” one of the bosses muttered under his breath.

“You all deserve that for the way you’ve acted.” Dominic Setaro’s icy tone terrifyingly calm. “With that being said, Nicolo will be staying out here to oversee things for a few weeks until Mr. Bianco returns from his honeymoon. At that time, we will all reconvene in Chicago to discuss how we can better control ourselves.”

“Yes, sir,” the room said in unison.

“Now let us enjoy the wedding,” Dominic Setaro said, dismissing them. “Ah! Mr. Bianco, please. Talk with me for just a moment.”

“Yes, sir,” John agreed. His head spinning as he tried to guess what this could be about. His nerves were already shot from getting married to Kathleen right up to seeing Gato whacked.

“Mr. Bianco,” Nicolo Setaro said as he holstered his weapon and walked across the small room toward his father. “I will be controlling Mr. Gato’s crew for the time being.”

Nicolo Setaro took his father by the arm and escorted him to a chair. Dominic Setaro settled into the large chair, steepling his fingers under his chin. John remembered that move from their meeting in Chicago and his heart began to beat even faster.

“Mr. Bianco,” Dominic Setaro said in a much friendlier voice, “now that respect has started to be somewhat restored, your resort will be used to funnel the Las Vegas earnings to Chicago. Nicolo will notify the remaining bosses that they will now report and deliver to you their earnings before being shipped to Chicago. When you get back from your honeymoon, you will meet with Nicolo. If there are any issues, we will deal with them from Chicago.” Dominic Setaro smiled and dismissed John was a wave of his hand. “Now go. Enjoy your wedding.”

John stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly after him. He laid a hand on the wall to steady himself and wait until his heart stopped pounding in his ears. After a few minutes, John took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and walked back into his reception.

The line of people had shrunk considerably since he last saw it. Kathleen caught sight of him coming in the room and her eyes and smile brightened immediately. She was greeting another guest and looking past their shoulder at John as he walked up.

“Excuse me,” John said as he stepped up to the people talking with Kathleen. “I need to steal my bride for a dance.”

“A course. A course. _Complimenti_ ,” the elderly Italian man said in very broken English as John led Kathleen onto the floor.

“I’m sorry I left you alone for so long, Kitten,” John said as he swung Kathleen around the floor. “But Dominic gave us the best wedding present he possible.”

Kathleen shot him a look. “I thought you told me to ignore the bag.”

“Kitten, I’m not talking about what was in his envelope.” John pulled her against him as the band started playing _Always_ by Ella Fitzgerald. “I think he just gave me Vegas.”

John tried desperately to contain his excitement. Holding Kathleen close to him, they moved as one across the dance floor.

“He did _what_?!” Kathleen gasped, not trying to hide her shock from the watching guests.

“I’ll tell you more about it when we are alone tonight,” John promised.

“What makes you think we’ll be talking at _all_ tonight?” Kathleen smiled up at John.

She leaned in and kissed him, pressing her lips against his tightly, her tongue flicking his lips playfully.  

“Good point,” John whispered as the playful kiss ended and he twirled her around the floor.


	13. Chapter 13

John glanced over at Kathleen as she lounged by the pool. His wife was rubbing suntan lotion into her fair skin, but it was too late: the California sun had turned her shoulders red. In fact, they matched that risque red and white checkered bikini bathing suit she just  _ had _ to have.

“You need me to do your back?” John teased.

Kathleen shot him a look from behind her huge, black plastic sunglasses. “Shut up.”

“I told you to put on lotion,” John said, leaning back in his lounge chair and putting on his own sunglasses.

Kathleen reached over and slapped John on the stomach. John let out a gasp before starting to laugh.

“Stop being a told-you-so,” she snapped, but her tone was playful.

John lifted his sunglasses and winked at his wife. Kathleen finished with her third layer of sunblock and snuggled back against her towel to burn some more.

Six days into their two-week honeymoon and John was sure all they had done with sunbathe and have sex. Kathleen had found and booked them the honeymoon suite at The R iviera Ligure in Palm Springs, California. She had insisted it was just because she wanted to get away from Las Vegas for a while, but John was pretty sure she'd chosen this particular place for two reasons: 

1) Frank Sinatra had a home in Palm Springs.

2) The R iviera Ligure was a brand new resort, only open a few months, and Kathleen wanted to scope the joint out.

“This isn't a  _ working _ vacation,” Kathleen had insisted, sounding insulted. “I heard good things about The Riviera Ligure.”

“From whom?” John asked.

Kathleen paused in her packing, her back to John. He waited for an answer from his clever wife but Kathleen spun around, holding up a skimpy nightie, instead.

“What do you think of this?” she asked, holding the lingerie against her body. “Do you like this?”

John crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Kathleen White …”

“What? I'm just asking.” Kathleen was the picture of innocence.

“Don't try to distract me with a nightgown,” John told her.

“A  _ nightgown _ ?” Kathleen gasped as she folded the nonexistent item into a tiny square and put it into her suitcase. “I am insulted for my incredibly expensive and sexy lingerie. How  _ crass _ , Mr. White.”

John slid his arms around her from behind and kissed the side of her neck.

“I prefer you naked, Mrs. White,” he whispered in her ear.

Kathleen let out a little whimper. “I'll take that under advisement.”

Now, laying by the pool, John regarded Kathleen frankly. She may look relaxed and happy -- which she definitely was -- but, behind those huge, ugly sunglasses, her mind was probably going 100 miles an hour.

“What’re ya thinking?” John asked quietly.

Kathleen shifted in her seat to lean closer to him and John was momentarily distracted by the amount of breast swelling out of the bikini top. Blinking a few times, John tried to focus on Kathleen's voice.

“I like the pool set-up,” Kathleen was saying. “Obviously, we're in the adult area as the shallow pool for kiddies is over in that direction.” She waved her head derisively the gaggle of families far across the patio. “We may not get families at our place, but we should at least have a shallow pool for non-swimmers.”

“Okay,” John agreed. “What else?”

“More waiters,” Kathleen said, holding up her empty glass. “I haven't had a refill in almost 30 minutes.”

“That may be a good thing,” John replied mildly. “You don't want to drink your weight in Mai Tais.”

“Pfft!” Kathleen snorted. “I do my best thinking when I'm tipsy.”

“But you don't do your best walking,” John teased.

Kathleen peeked over the top of her sunglasses at John coyly.

“Maybe not,” she agreed, “but carrying your drunk wife to the bed is one of your best skills.”

“What I  _ do _ to my drunk wife in the bed is one of my best skills,” John argued, catching Kathleen under the chin with two fingers to raise her lips to his.

“Another Mai Tai, Mrs. Bianco?” A waiter suddenly appeared as if by magic.

“No,” Kathleen replied without taking her eyes off John. “We're going upstairs.”

“Right now?” John asked.

“Is there ever a better time?” Kathleen stood up, gathering up her pool bag. She started to stroll toward the hotel, then paused and looked over her shoulder. Crooking her finger at John invitingly, she purred, “Come along, my lord. I miss your tongue.”

“Son of a bitch,” John swore and chased his wife into the building.

Over dinner, John and Kathleen took notes on how the hotel flowed. It still had to work out some kinks -- it was only just eight months old -- but it was definitely a good model for reference.

“You know,” John said softly, tracing his fingers down Kathleen's arm, “if we got out of the room more, we could do more research.”

“If we got out of the room more, we wouldn't nearly have as much sex,” Kathleen replied. Her hand slid up John's thigh to his crotch.

“I love the way you think,” John breathed as Kathleen's fingers stroked him through his pants.

“And I love the way we have sex,” Kathleen said, leaning on her elbow to gaze innocently at her husband while she teased him.

John shook his head. “Jesus, woman. You're gonna be the death of me.”

“Not until we get home and I can dig a hole in the desert for your body,” Kathleen replied sweetly.

After dinner, at Kathleen's insistence, there was drinks and dancing at the Chiki-Chiki Club, which was on-site. One long, leisurely poolside stroll deposited the resort's guests right on the front door of the club.

“I don't like it,” Kathleen said critically. “Any drunken idiot can fall into the pool and drown on the way to and from this place.”

“We'll put our club inside then,” John agreed as they walked in.

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Bianco,” the maître de said grandly. “We're so glad you could visit tonight.”

Kathleen smiled politely, casting an eye around the room. The club was decorated with a tropical feel, worlds apart from the space-age and modern decor in the rest of the resort. Almost like there was a battle of wills and the old-fashioned designer won out. Kathleen wrinkled her nose as the maître de led her and John to a choice booth in the middle of the room. John caught a glimpse of her wrinkled nose and chuckled.

“Don't like the tropics, Kitten?” he asked as the maître de walked away.

“I like the tropics in my drink,” Kathleen commented, running her hand over the flower-printed seat material. “Not under my backside.”

John leaned over and grazed his teeth over her naked shoulder. “I like being under your backside.”

Kathleen blushed. “John!” she scolded.

“Are you blushing?” John teased, his arm going around Kathleen's waist to pull her closer. “You? The girl who got me hard during our dinner entrees?”

“John … stop …” Kathleen whispered without meaning it as he tugged playfully on her dangling pearl earring with his teeth.

“If I could, I would reach right under this dress and taste you,” John whispered in her ear. “But it's so fucking tight.”

“My dress?” Kathleen asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or … other places?”

John smiled. “Both.”

The band started playing just as their drinks arrived at the table. John leaned back, his arm across the back of the booth while Kathleen leaned forward to tap her cigarette into the ashtray before settling back against John’s shoulder to listen to the music. 

Taking a long pull off his bourbon, John ruminated on how different his life was a year ago at the time. Then: a barely-important man in a barely-important job, clawing to get out from under his fat and dumb boss and fucking all the girls he could get his dick into. Now: a very important man in a very important position, leap-frogging over men less visionary than he with a clever and beautiful woman at his side.

“C'mon, Kitten.” John drained his drink and offered Kathleen his hand. “Let's dance.”

Leading Kathleen onto the dance floor, John spun her with a flourish before pulling her close to his chest. His left hand nestled perfectly into the small of her back, his fingers grazing the naked skin he found there. She was wearing the slinky red evening dress from their engagement party and it was having the same double-take effect in California that it had in Las Vegas.

_ Whoever made this dress deserves an award, _ John thought.

Sometime during the third song, John felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning to look, John found himself face-to-face with Frank Sinatra.

“Mind if I cut in?” the man asked, grinning.

John looked at Kathleen's thrilled face (a little  _ too _ thrilled, in his opinion) and stepped back.

“My pleasure, sir,” John said.

“I'll bring her right back,” Sinatra promised and spun Kathleen away.

“Damn right you will,” John muttered as he watched the celebrity lead his wife around the floor.

“How do you always end up in the best places, Mrs. Bianco?” Sinatra asked Kathleen.

Kathleen's cheeks went a little pink. “The real question is, Mr. Sinatra: How do  _ you _ keep ending up wherever  _ I  _ am?”

Sinatra paused for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“I guess you could say we both have good taste,” Sinatra said.

Kathleen grinned up at him with a sneaky, Cheshire cat smile. “I've heard before that I have an excellent taste.”

“ _ An _ excellent taste?” Sinatra repeated in an interested tone.

“Excellent taste,” Kathleen corrected him pertly, but they both knew what she said.

The song ended and Sinatra kissed Kathleen's hand.

“Thanks for the dance,” he said.

“Won't you come back to our table for a drink?” Kathleen offered, tucking her arm through Sinatra's. “It's the least I can offer you after such a dance.”

Sinatra looked as if he was about to refuse, but a sweet grin and squeeze of his forearm won him over. Kathleen led him back to her and John's table, where her husband quickly signaled for another round, plus a whiskey for Frank Sinatra.

_ Holy shit,  _ John thought as he watched Kathleen and Sinatra make their way over to their booth.  _ Frank Fucking Sinatra is coming to my table. _

“John,” Kathleen said as he got to his feet to shake Sinatra's hand, “Mr. Sinatra is going to join us for a drink. He couldn't say 'no.’”

“Your wife didn't give me a  _ chance _ to say 'no,’” Sinatra told John as they greeted each other.

“Yeah, that's a talent she has,” John agreed.

“One of them,” Sinatra added, eyeing Kathleen as she scooted into the booth next to her husband.

Their drinks arrived and Kathleen leaned back so the two men could talk over her. She watched Sinatra as he talked to John but kept an eye on her.

“So, what do you do, Bianco?” Sinatra asked.

“I'm a businessman,” John answered smoothly.

“I know quite a few businessmen,” Sinatra said mildly. “You know, Mrs. Bianco, we're neighbors at the Sands.”

“We  _ are _ ?” Kathleen trilled, clasping Sinatra's arm. “We're in Penthouse #2.”

“I know,” Sinatra said. “I've seen you before. Both of you,” he added after a beat.

John looked back and forth between his wife and the other man. He knew there was  _ no way _ Kathleen had slept with Frank Sinatra, but the lecherous way the other man was looking at his wife was starting to get his ire up.

Kathleen suddenly leaned into John, prompting him to put both of his arms around her.

“Giovanni,” she said over her shoulder at him, “tell Mr. Sinatra --”

“Frank, Mrs. Bianco,” Sinatra corrected her, exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“And I'm Kathleen,” she said. “Now, Giovanni, tell Frank about your resort.”

“Kitten, he doesn't want to hear about that,” John said.

Kathleen's nails dug into his knee. “Of  _ course  _ he does! Don't you, Frank?”

Faced with the playful cheerleader exuberance of the sultry brunette in front of him, the normally suave Frank Sinatra stammered out a positive response.

John launched into a description of the resort being built in Las Vegas. Sinatra's face went from polite to truly interested rather quickly. When John stopped to take a drink, Kathleen jumped in swiftly.

“And most of the workers will be pretty girls: bartenders, servers, dealers,” she said. “Isn't that clever?”

“Did you come up with that, Bianco?” Sinatra asked.

“No.” John shook his head. “That was Kathleen.”

“Really? Huh.” Sinatra nodded his head appreciatively.

A few more minutes of chatting and Sinatra announced he had to excuse himself.

John stood to shake his hand, then Kathleen gave Sinatra her hand, which he kissed.

“Frank,” she said in a wheedling tone, “when the resort opens, will come?”

“What?” John and Sinatra asked her at the same time.

Kathleen leaned forward, giving both men a generous view of her generous cleavage.

“Will you come to our party, Frank?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

Sinatra, distracted by all the flesh on display in front of him, said “Yes” before he realized what he knew what he agreed to.

Kathleen pulled her hand from Sinatra's grip and reached behind her to stroke John's face lovingly.

“Thank you, Frank,” she purred. “You're a good friend.”

“Yeah,” Sinatra said. “Good night, Bianco.”

“Good night,” John replied as he stood over Kathleen, hands on her shoulders.

They watched Sinatra walk away, working the room as he went.

“Kathleen,” John said, without taking his eyes off Sinatra's retreating back.

“Yes, John?” Kathleen replied, still watching Sinatra too.

“Did you just con Frank Sinatra into coming to our grand opening by tricking him into a gentleman’s agreement while you shook his hand?”

Under his hands, John felt Kathleen's shoulders rise and fall languidly.

“Did I?” she asked guilelessly.

“You know you did, you clever minx,” John said, sliding back into the seat behind her. He pulled her against his chest and half onto his lap, his hands resting on her hips.

Kathleen leaned back into him, her head resting on his shoulder. 

“Are you mad at me, John?” she asked in a girlish voice.

“You know I'm not,” John said in her ear. “In fact, Kitten, I need to thank you.”

“I accept cash,” Kathleen joked.

“I have something better than cash,” John told her. “Lasts longer too.”

Kathleen shifted onto John's lap a little more, rubbing her round bottom against his hardening cock.

“Then, please, by all means, thank me properly, my love,” she murmured.

“Check.” John snapped his fingers.


	14. Chapter 14

John closed the door behind them as he pulled Kathleen against his body. Squeezing her in his arms, he pressed his lips to hers. Kissing her deeply, he slid his hands over her hips and around her perfect, round ass. He picked her up and spun around, pinning her to the door as it clicked closed behind them. 

Kathleen moaned in John’s mouth. She was pinned to the door, her arms wrapped around John’s neck. Kathleen tried to suck John’s lower lip between her teeth, but John pulled his mouth from hers.  Lowering it to her neck, he licked, kissed, sucked, and bit his way from her ear down over his shoulder, still pinning her to the door with his body.

“You were  _ not _ a good wife tonight,” John said playfully. “Flirting with another man and then tricking him into doing business is not acceptable. Very unladylike.”

“And what are you going to do about, Mr. White?” Kathleen teased with a wry smile. Her voice was giddy with excitement.

"You know I'm not going to tell you, Kitten," John said, grinning wolfishly. "I'd rather show you."

John kissed Kathleen roughly, pinning her harder against the door. Kathleen moaned a little in his mouth, knowing she was in for a long night.

The sun blazed through the bedroom window, right on Kathleen’s face, forcing her eyes open. In their rush to ravage each other the night before, the curtains had been left open. A huge oversight as now the sun, in its relentless cheeriness, had Kathleen up much earlier than she wanted to be.

Kathleen hoisted herself onto her elbows to glance over at John, who was still asleep. After they had caught their breath, after their bodies stopped trembling, John had finished untying her, then spent a few minutes rubbing the numbness out of her shoulders. There was no way in hell Kathleen was going to tell him to stop massaging her aching muscles, but his strong hands working the feeling back into her shoulder and neck was just as painful as when she’d been lashed to the headboard.

Sliding out of bed slowly so she wouldn’t wake him, Kathleen pulled on a fluffy white hotel robe and padded into the living room to order breakfast. 

“And take your time,” Kathleen said softly into the phone, glancing at the half-closed bedroom door.

Placing the receiver back in the cradle and wandered around the suite before finding herself back in the bedroom doorway. Leaning against the frame, Kathleen hugged herself tightly, watching John sleep. He was still so young, so was she. Could they really be given the massive responsibility of running Las Vegas when they were still in their 20s? Smiling a little, Kathleen shook her head. If there was anyone who could figure out how to rule an unruly city like Vegas, it was John.

“Hey,” John said sleepily.

Kathleen roused herself from her revere. “Good morning.”

John leaned up on one arm to gaze across the room at his wife. She was wrapped in a white hotel dressing gown, one shoulder bare as it slipped down her arm. Her dark hair was wild, her makeup was smudged a little under her eyes, and her cheeks were still flushed. Her neck and collarbone was peppered with faint bite marks. John grinned. Kathleen was never sexier than when she was disheveled, still blissed and fucked-out from the night before.

“I ordered breakfast,” Kathleen was saying.

“I’d rather have you,” John teased.

Kathleen smirked, rolling her eyes. “I think you’ll survive one day without me.”

A knock on the door signalled the arrival of their food. Kathleen left John to pull on his pajamas as she answered the door. Over breakfast, John regarded his wife as she read one of the newspapers delivered with their coffee and eggs.

“Kitten?” he said.

“Hmm?” she replied without looking up.

“I was thinking of meeting with the hotel manager,” John told her.

This news roused Kathleen from her paper. “Oh? When? Today?” she asked eagerly.

John shrugged. “No better day than today.”

Kathleen looked thoughtfully as she took a sip of coffee. “How are we going to approach him?”

“We?” John asked, looked surprised. “Oh, Kitten, no. Just me.”

Kathleen’s coffee cup nearly shattered as it hit its saucer. Her eyes blazed. 

“Well, that’s bullshit,” she told him.

“Hey!” John snapped. “You don’t have to be included in everything.”

Kathleen stood up from the table so fast, she almost knocked her chair over. John watched as she went from furious to utterly calm in a moment, clenched fists relaxing. Angry, narrow eyes went soft as she gave John a come-fuck-me look.

“Fine,” she said politely, a serene smile spreading across her lips. “I guess I’ll just lay by the pool like a brainless wife.”

“Kathleen --” John called after her as she left the room to shower and put on her swimsuit.

An hour later, Kathleen had settled herself into a lounge chair, rubbing suntan lotion into her legs while John stood over her in a smart navy blue suit.

“You look handsome,” Kathleen said mildly. She leaned back into her chair, shifting languidly, arching her back and making satisfied, little squeaks as she smoothed lotion into her cleavage.

John eyed his wife speculatively. It took him barely a moment to make a decision.

“Get your stuff, Kitten,” he said. “I have an idea.”

John explained his idea to Kathleen as she was changing from her bikini into a very professional suit. John carried a binder with a pad and pen inside to take notes with. A roll reversal could throw the manager off just enough for him to reveal a trade secret or two he normally wouldn’t let slip. Even if he didn’t, the look on his face could be worth the risk. 

John spoke quietly to the concierge before they were asked behind the counter and into the office area of the resort. John and Kathleen immediately started taking mental notes as they walked through narrow hallways passed a few offices, a tiny employee conference room, and an even tinier employee break room to the manager’s large office. 

“You’re on, Kitten,” John smiled, opening the door for his wife to enter first.

“Hello, Mr. Williams,” Kathleen said, striding across the office as the man stood from behind his desk. Kathleen extended her hand as she introduced herself. “I’m Kathleen Bianco. This is my husband, Giovanni.”

“Mrs. Bianco,” Williams said politely as he shook her hand before looking past her to John.  “Mr. Bianco, please, have a seat. What can I do for you?”

“First of all, you can address both of us equally,” John said coldly with a hint of a threat in his voice. “Mrs. Bianco is the reason we’re here in the first place.”

“Oh …” Williams said with a long pause. “We have many amenities that wives seem to enjoy. I trust you are enjoying the pool, spa, and restaurant?” 

He looked at Kathleen, whose cold stare quieted his simpering immediately.

“Nearly as much as I find faults with each,” she replied.  

“I think it’s best you realize now that Mrs. Bianco is the reason we are  _ here _ at your hotel instead of Hawaii, for example, for our honeymoon,” John emphasized, motioning around the office. “I suggest you speak to her.”

Mr. Williams wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brow. His expression was one of pure confusion. John and Kathleen exchanged a quick glance, both obviously thinking it was priceless.

“But … I -- I don’t understand?” Williams stammered, puzzled.

“It’s really not that difficult, Mr. Williams.” Kathleen said with the businesslike tone that John suggested she use when dealing with him instead of her womanly charm. “Mr. Bianco and I are building a resort. I had hoped to meet with you to discuss a few things we noticed here. Certain questions can only be answered by a man of your …  _ experience _ .”

Kathleen took advantage of Williams’ flustered state to choose a chair in front of his huge desk. She sat down, crossed her ankles, and laid her arms on the armrests like a queen ascending her throne. Unsure of what to do with himself, Williams stood, then half-sat, then stood again. Kathleen watched him with an exasperated expression. She motioned at his chair and Williams finally sat down at his own desk.

“Ummm …” Williams mumbled again, nervously shuffling papers around on his desk. “Where are you building this resort?”

“Las Vegas,” Kathleen answered.

John sat down next to Kathleen and started taking notes as she peppered Williams with questions and the man stammered through his answers. John learned a lot just from the walk into the manager’s oversized office: 

The employees were definitely under appreciated. Break rooms and working areas need to be larger to give the employees a sense of value. A few questions into Kathleen’s interrogation came the biggest surprise. The maid staff was the most important set of employees for the hotel. The faster they could turn over the rooms, the earlier people could check in and begin spending money at the resort. Of course, Williams didn’t realize this.

“So, what you’re telling me that is that there are only two maids for each floor?” Kathleen questioned.

“Yes.” Williams nodded. “I find that money spent elsewhere is a better choice than spending it on wages.”

“And how many rooms per floor again?” Kathleen asked again as John quickly jotted down the numbers.

After getting all the answers to every question Kathleen had, Williams looked relieved that the interrogation was over. John almost felt sorry for the man as Kathleen leaned forward, smiling sweetly. 

“We would  _ love _ a tour of the employee areas, if you have enough time to walk us around,” she said.

“Uh …” Williams paused as John and Kathleen got to their feet, waiting expectantly. “I … suppose.”

“Excellent.” Kathleen headed for the door. Hand on the knob, she turned to face Williams, who hadn’t even gotten up. “Shall we, Mr. Williams?” she asked. “We have a lot of ground to cover before my dinner reservations.”


	15. Chapter 15

The gala celebration to open La Bella Ricorrere was a sparkling, dazzling affair. Anyone who was anyone in Las Vegas, Chicago, and -- thanks to Frank Sinatra -- Hollywood was there.

The booze was top-notch. The food was even better. The slots were loose and the women … Well, let's just say the women were the best Vegas had seen for a long time.

Gorgeous girls in form-fitting mini-dresses, armed with drink and cigarette trays, moved slinkily around the room, offering guests free drinks and smokes while casually mentioning the other perks the resort had to share: table games, slot machines, restaurants. Only a minimum of the employees knew the function of the richly-dressed and coiffed women who escorted the unattached high rollers around.

“Plausible deniability,” John had told Kathleen late one whiskey-soaked evening after a marathon day of party planning. “The less workers who know, the better.”

As free and easy as the evening seemed to be going, it had been planned down to the absolute second. John and Kathleen had plotted, schemed, finagled, and bribed their fingers and brains to nubs to make the opening gala seem like an effortless party.

Paulie and Gene were splitting their time in the security office. When one was in the office watching the high-tech security televisions that no other casino or resort in Las Vegas had but them, the other was on the floor overseeing the massive security force hidden amongst the guests.

“Hey, baby!” John kissed Kathleen hurriedly as he zoomed past on his way to press the flesh of a fleshy movie producer who’d just dropped a stack of 100s on a roulette wheel. “Doing good?”

“Fantastic!” Kathleen called after John's retreating figure. She turned back to the man who had been asking about the attractive staff. “Yes, our staff is almost exclusively female. It adds to the pleasing atmosphere.”

“ _You_ add to the pleasing atmosphere,” the man said, eyeballing Kathleen like she was meat.

Kathleen swallowed a snappy comeback, smiling instead. “Thank you. That's very kind. Now, was there anything else I could help you with?”

The man, some Vegas-based lesser family member with delusions of grandeur, trailed a damp finger down Kathleen's upper arm.

“I can think of a few things,” he leered.

Kathleen's nails dug into her palms, but her smile stayed on. Without looking over her shoulder, Kathleen motioned a girl over with two fingers. Like a flash, a honey blonde appeared at Kathleen’s elbow.

“This is Peggy,” Kathleen said to the man, getting up from her seat. “I’m sure you two have many common interests.”

Kathleen and the honey blonde exchanged a swift glance. Kathleen squeezed the girl's shoulder with two fingers before walking away.

“Good night,” Kathleen said to the new couple, polite smile still in place. “Have a drink on me.”

Kathleen waved the female bartender over to serve them before walking away. She found John standing at the roulette table with the Hollywood man, laughing uproariously, with Madge on his arm. That well-built redhead who was always following Madge around was there too. Kathleen narrowed her eyes a little while a small burn of jealousy started in her belly.

_No time for that now, girl,_ she told herself.

Kathleen approached the group. John’s eyes lit on her and he winked. Madge and the ginger girl turned to face her. The redhead almost looked like she wanted to take off, but the fat Tinseltown producer, Something Webb, had a grip on the redhead that didn’t allow her to move.

“Hello, all,” Kathleen said. She kissed John on the cheek before turning to the second man. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Kathleen held her hand out, palm down. “I’m Kathleen Bianco.”

“Webb,” the other man replied, his clammy hand enveloping hers.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Webb?” Kathleen asked. “Can we get anything for you to make your time more entertaining?”

Webb barely glanced at the redhead on his arm, but Kathleen saw the imperceptible flick of his eyes toward her. Kathleen looked from the redhead to Madge to John. John’s eyebrows went up inconspicuously. Kathleen turned back to Webb, smiling that Cheshire cat grin she perfected in the mirror.

“May I borrow your date, Mr. Webb?” Kathleen asked sweetly, taking the redhead’s other arm.

“Bring her right back,” Webb warned, waving a chubby finger at her.

Kathleen let out a peal of laughter. “Of course.”

Kathleen and the redhead in the black evening gown stepped off to the the side. Kathleen’s smile stayed in place, but there was ice behind it.

“What’s your name?” she asked the ginger.

“Delphine LeBeau,” the girl replied in a slow, Southern drawl.

“Is that your real accent?” Kathleen asked.

“I’m from Louisiana,” Delphine replied.

Kathleen sighed, giving the girl the darkest glare she could while keeping her smile in place. “How long have you been with us?”

“Since the night of your engagement party, Mrs. Bianco.” Delphine seemed completely unflustered by Kathleen.

“Did Madge find you?” Kathleen asked.

“She did. Right at the bus station,” Delphine replied.

Kathleen raised her eyebrow. “I assume you’re being treated well.”

Delphine nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Come and speak to me if you need anything, Delphine,” Kathleen told the girl. “I’m sure Madge has mentioned that you can come to me for any reason.”

Delphine nodded again. “And, if _you_ need anything, Mrs. Bianco …”

Kathleen gave the other girl a small, puzzled smile. “What could I need?”

“A friend? A confidante?” Delphine said innocently. “Some of the other girls find me … indispensable.”

A chill went down Kathleen’s spine. The guileless way Delphine had offered her friendship was only tempered by the devious glint in her eyes and the way her accent purred out the implication of the word “indispensable.”

“Thank you, Delphine,” Kathleen said. “You can return to your evening.”

“Mrs. Bianco.” Delphine lowered her chin at Kathleen, who was half-expecting Delphine to sweep into a curtsy.

Delphine rejoined the foursome, but Kathleen stayed to the side. A wife would just intrude onto the good time, so Kathleen recused herself to the bar to find Paulie for an overall report of the evening so far.

The desert sky was starting to turn orange and pink when the final guest staggered up to their room. John was having a cigarette and a drink at the bar when Kathleen walked up. John smiled at the sight of his wife. She looked exhausted and nearly dead on her feet, but it looked good on her.

“Hey, baby,” John said softly, holding his arm out to hug her. Kathleen slid against him, resting her head on his shoulder. John kissed her forehead. “You ready for bed yet?”

“I was ready for bed hours ago,” Kathleen admitted. “I could sleep for days.”

“Just sleep?” John teased.

Kathleen’s body vibrated against John as she giggled. “Yes. I’m too tired for anything else.”

“You may wake up sticky.” John patted Kathleen’s bottom playfully.

Kathleen rolled her eyes. “Come, husband. Let go get naked and curl up together.”

John opened his eyes around 9am. The few hours of sleep he managed to get were not nearly enough.

_Gonna need a whole pot of coffee this morning,_ he thought as he slipped out of bed.

John took one long look at Kathleen. She was sound asleep, her naked back peeking out from under the silk sheet. Letting Kathleen sleep in after the night they had would be the best decision to make.

John slipped out of the bedroom quietly. He ordered breakfast for himself along with a carafe of coffee. John showered and ate before making a few phone calls.

“Paulie,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Did you get a final count for last night?”

“Of course, Boss,” Paulie said. John could hear the smile in his voice. “We did real good, Boss. Three times more than you thought and more than twice what you hoped for.”

John nearly dropped the phone, but kept his voice calm as he said, “Have the department breakdowns sent to my office downstairs. This I gotta see.”

John hung up the phone and let out a celebratory “ _Hurrah!_ ” In retrospect, it was probably a _little_ too loud and Kathleen’s waking groan was audible from the bedroom. John walked back in as she was stirring in the bed.

“Good morning, wife,” John said softly as he sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her gently on the cheek.

“Morning,” Kathleen said groggily. “Why are you being so loud out there?”  

“I’ll fill you in whenever you get out of bed and make it down to the office,” John promised as he slid off the bed. He kissing her on the shoulder before pulling the sheets back over her.

“Okay,” Kathleen agreed and snuggled back into her pillow and drifted back to sleep.

John slipped out of the bedroom and out the suite. He headed to his office overlooking one of  casino bars behind a giant one way mirror in the sky. He grabbed another cup of coffee and slipped into his hair behind the large wooden desk. Clicking on the lamp on the desk he looked over the folders stacked neatly in front of him. John lit a cigarette and took a long sip of coffee before opening the folders.

He sifted through the departments one by one. Each department exceeding profit expectations double or more. The table games reported better than expected and even though the slots were intentionally loose it must have kept people gambling. The restaurants all turned in huge numbers as to be expected on an opening night: The unexpected part was the hourly breakdown. From the time the restaurants opened until they reported their income at 3:00am, they remained steady. John made a note to discuss the hours of operation with the food service manager and continued through the folders.

The intercom on his desk buzzed and John answered. “Yes, Cindy?”

“Mr. Bianco?” His secretary’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Mr. James is here.”

“Send him in, please.”

Mr. James was the casino manager. He looked as tired as John still felt after last night’s grand opening. The two men discussed the good portions of the night as well as the struggles employees had. After an hour of discussing the previous night, John decided that enough was enough. He dismissed Mr. James with a promise to continue speaking later. Three meetings with various department heads were scheduled for later that day, but first? He was starving.

He pressed the intercom again. “Cindy, can you have someone bring me a sandwich?”

“Of course, sir.”

John pushed his chair from the desk. He stood up to stretch his legs and lit a cigarette. He turned to face toward the glass wall behind his desk that overlooked the resort floor. John marveled at how he could have pulled all of this off. If it wasn’t for Kathleen, he probably would have been content running numbers and girls from the back of that sleazy little bar.

John looked out the one-way window and down over his most profitable bar from the night before. Two of his girls were already (still?) there chatting up a few guys that were obviously already (still?) skunk drunk and may not have even slept from the night before.

John heard the office door open and he caught a glimpse of someone familiar in the reflection in the glass as he gazed through it.

“Morning, lover.” John smiled as he turned around to greet her.

“I would hardly call this morning.” Kathleen was carrying a small tray containing John’s sandwich and coffee. She put it on the desk. “We need to make sure we don’t turn nights like last night into a habit.”

“After you see these numbers, you might think differently,” John said, turning around to face Kathleen.

John sat back down at his desk. He pulled his lunch closer before pushing the detailed fiscal reports and his notes from the meetings he’d had earlier in the day across the desk to his wife.

Kathleen thumbed through them, eyes skimming the pages quickly. She let out a short whistle as she put the reports back down, then perched on the edge of John’s desk.

“This is incredible, John,” Kathleen said. She rested on one hand, leaning over the wide wooden surface toward his husband. A wicked little grin curled on her red lips. “You know … we should celebrate.”

“Oh, should we?” John was beginning to ask when the intercom crackled, interrupting him.

“Mr. Bianco--” his secretary began.

The door burst open as one of their newer girls, Mary Anne, rushed in. She looked around the room wildly before seeing Kathleen. A mix of relief and fear was coming off her in waves.

“Mrs. Bianco!” she cried, sounding frantic. “We need you!”

John’s shoulders slumped slightly as the promise of a quickie with Kathleen on his desk was dashed. She barely glanced his way as she hurriedly got off his desk and crossed the room to the panting, frightened girl.

“Duty calls then, Kitten.” He bit into his sandwich, a satisfied grin creeping across his face. “If you need anything, have them ring me.”


	16. Chapter 16

Kathleen followed Mary Anne down the hallway to the employee elevator. Kathleen could barely keep up before she realized that Mary Anne was so fast because she was barefoot. Mary Anne skidded to stop in front of the elevator, punching the up button madly.

“Mary Anne, what’s wrong? What happened?” Kathleen caught up with the girl, who was alternately staring at the numbers climb and the already lit button.

“It’s Peggy,” Mary Anne replied, looking over her shoulder at Kathleen, tears in her eyes. “She’s hurt.”

“She’s what?” Kathleen demanded as the elevator doors open.

“She’s hurt.” Mary Anne grabbed Kathleen’s arm and yanked her into the elevator. The doors closed and Mary Anne burst into tears. Mary Anne threw her arms around Kathleen, who hugged her back.

“Okay, okay.” Kathleen stroked Mary Anne’s back. “Calm down. Tell me what happened.”

Mary Anne drew in a shaky breath. “She had a client. I don’t know what happened, but we could hear her screaming.”

Kathleen’s heart stopped. “Screaming?”

Mary Anne nodded, her face crumpling as she began to cry anew. “She’s … she’s … it’s bad, Mrs. Bianco.”

The elevator doors opened onto the escorts’ private floor. There was a group of girls ,  in various states of undress, and one visible shaken security guard gathered around Peggy’s closed door. When they saw Kathleen coming down the hallway flanked by tear-stained Mary Anne, they stepped aside and let her by.

“What happened?” Kathleen demanded, looking from scared face to scared face. Frustrated, Kathleen glared down the hallway past the silent escorts. “Where’s Madge?”

“She’s with a client,” a small voice replied.

“Who’s in charge then?” Kathleen snapped.

“I am,” a Southern drawl said.

Kathleen turned and faced Delphine, who was wearing a long silk nightie under a see-through dressing gown. Her hair was disheveled, but she was utterly calm. Kathleen and Delphine stepped to the side.

“What happened?” Kathleen whispered fiercely.

Delphine shook her head. “Peggy had a client all night. Nobody thought nothing was wrong until we heard her start crying. Then the yelling started and the -- the sounds --” Delphine swallowed hard.

“What kind of sounds?” Kathleen asked.

“We got Hal and he opened the door,” Delphine explained, “and then Hal dragged him out of the room and he got on the elevator.”

“What about Madge?” Kathleen barked.

Delphine didn’t meet Kathleen’s gaze. “You need to see.”

Kathleen headed to Peggy’s door, the waiting girls moved out of her way again. 

“Hal, go get Paulie or Gene. Now.” Kathleen used her best in-charge voice. “Ladies, please. A little privacy.”

As Hal rushed off to the elevator and the girls melted back, Kathleen opened Peggy’s door. The room was dim and smelled of spilled wine and potpourri, with a faint, unpleasant scent of sweat and something coppery. The huddled, shaking mass on the bed was obviously Peggy. Kathleen tapped quietly on the half-open door.

“Peggy,” she said gently. “It’s Mrs. Bianco. May I come in?”

A sob was Kathleen’s only answer. Kathleen stepped into Peggy’s room, closing the door behind her as Delphine tried to follow her.

“No, Delphine,” Kathleen said firmly. “I’ll fetch you if necessary.”

Kathleen shut the door, pausing to decide what to do next. The sobs from the bed were quiet and forlorn. Squaring her shoulders, Kathleen made her way across the room carefully.

“Peggy?” Kathleen asked quietly as she stopped at the side of the bed. “Honey? Are you alright?”

A small whimper was Kathleen’s only answer. Kathleen turned on the bedside light as Peggy twisted away from Kathleen’s gaze. Kathleen let out a short sigh and sat down on the bed next to her. 

“Let me see you, honey,” Kathleen said. “I want to help.”

“Mrs. Bianco --” Peggy’s voice was slurred.

“Peggy, now. Please.” Kathleen used her best mom voice, laying her hand on Peggy’s naked shoulder.

“Okay.” Peggy turned to face Kathleen, who couldn’t hold back her horrified gasp.

As battered as Kathleen had been at the hands of Richie Robertson, she had never been as mauled as Peggy’s ruined face was: both eyes were blackened, her nose was crooked, her neck was ringed with finger marks, her skin was ripped to bits across her cheeks, forehead, and chin, her lips were swollen two sizes larger than normal and split on the sides. There was dried and drying blood down her chin, neck, and onto her chest.

“Who did this to you, Peggy?” Kathleen whispered, her voice trembling.

“The man … the man you were talking to,” Peggy said through her inflamed lips.

“Oh, my god,” Kathleen breathed, feeling sick.

“He knocked out four of my teeth,” Peggy moaned, touching her mouth with her fingertips.

“Oh, Peggy,” Kathleen said. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t --”

“I know, Mrs. Bianco,” Peggy replied, not meeting Kathleen’s eyes.

“What about the rest of you?” Kathleen asked after a moment’s silence.

Peggy didn’t respond so Kathleen pulled the blood-splattered sheet away from her naked body. Her torso was striped with lashes obviously delivered by a heavy hand with a leather belt. Kathleen knew those marks. She’d had them herself before, courtesy of her ex-husband. Kathleen closed her eyes briefly to steady her nerves.

“Anywhere else?” Kathleen asked.

Peggy nodded, looking at the sheet puddled around her waist. Kathleen knew what she wasn’t saying immediately.

“Don’t move,” Kathleen ordered, getting up.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Peggy replied.

Kathleen jerked her head back at the pummeled girl on the bed. “What do you mean?”

Peggy moved the sheet off her leg so hesitantly, Kathleen almost lost her temper. The soles of Peggy’s feet were slashed across the arches. Kathleen swallowed down bile that rose into her throat.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Kathleen announced and charged across the room.

Whipping the door open, Kathleen came face to face with Delphine and the handful of girls that were left over. Delphine took a step back when she saw Kathleen.

“Call Dr. Ellis!” Kathleen roared. “I want him here in 5 minutes.” She started to turn back into the room before yelling “And call my husband!” after Delphine’s retreating form. 

“Don’t tell Mr. Bianco!” Peggy begged. “I don’t want him to see me!”

“He needs to see what’s happened to you,” Kathleen told Peggy, trying to control the fury in her voice. “You!” Kathleen snapped her fingers and pointed at a random girl in the hallway. “Get in here and sit with her. Do  _ not _ wash her up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the new girl agreed and entered the room, looking worried.

“Peggy, I’ll be back,” Kathleen promised.

“Don’t go!” Peggy cried out. 

Kathleen smiled kindly at the injured girl, keeping her wrath under control. “Honey, I’ll come right back. I need to take care of something first.”

“Okay,” Peggy agreed, gathering her sheet up to her chin.

Kathleen strode down the hallway to the elevator. She took it up to their suite to grab her purse, then headed down to the casino floor to find Peggy’s assailant.

He was hard to miss, sitting at the bar where Kathleen first met him. He was still drinking, probably from the night before, and looking like he could pass out at any minute. Putting on her best sexpot smile, Kathleen sidled up to him.

“Hi there,” she said in a breathy voice.

The hood looked up from his drink blearily. When he saw who was talking to him, he grinned drunkenly.

“Well, hey, there.”

“I never did catch your name last night,” Kathleen said, laying her purse on the bar and leaning against the edge. She waved off the bartender, pointing her off to the very end of the bar for some extra privacy.

“It’s Artie,” he said. “You’re the boss’s wife.”

“Kathleen,” she said quickly. “Did you want to get out of here?” 

“To where?” Artie raised his glass to his mouth and Kathleen saw the large ring he wore on his right hand. She also saw the faint remains of Peggy’s blood on his knuckles.

“I have a little place we can go to be alone.” Kathleen picked her purse back up and held her hand out to Artie. “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

Artie drained his glass and slammed it down on the bar. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he smiled sloppily at Kathleen.

“I bet I will,” he agreed.

Stopping by the front desk for a room key, Kathleen led Artie back upstairs. Her heart was racing in her chest and thudding in her ears. She had to stay calm until she could get him into the room around the corner from Peggy’s, which was still abuzz with activity.

Locking the door after them, Kathleen hadn’t even turned around when she was slammed against the doorframe from behind and Artie was pawing her. Struggling with her purse, Kathleen tried to hold him off for as long as she could before she brought her heel down on his foot.

“What the hell, you slut?” Artie shouted, jumping back.

Kathleen pulled her .22 from her clutch and spun around, pointing the gun at the shocked man. Her hands were shaking a little, but her voice was completely steady as she growled out,

“Who are you calling a slut, you bastard?”

“You! You broke my fucking toe!” Artie exclaimed.

“I doubt it,” Kathleen snapped. “I saw what you did to her.”

“Who?” Artie asked, looking confused.

“Who?  _ Who _ !” Kathleen yelled. “Peggy! You beat her!”

Artie’s confusion broke as he let out a snort. “She liked it.”

“What?” Kathleen went cold. Her hands steadied.

“She  _ liked  _ it.” Artie’s voice taunted her. “Just like you will.”

“I don’t think so,” Kathleen clicked the hammer back on her gun. Artie paused in his advance on her. “This is the part of the conversation where you say ‘You won’t pull the trigger.’”

Artie’s face almost cracked from the size of his smile. “Okay. We can play this game. You won’t pull --”

Kathleen squeezed the trigger and the gun exploded in her grip. The force and closeness of the shot propelled Artie backwards a few steps before he sprawled across the floor. Kathleen was frozen to the floor as she lowered the gun in slow motion.

“Oh, my god,” she gasped. “Oh, my god.”

She fell back against the door for support as she watched the rug under Artie’s body turn red. Looking around the empty room wildly, Kathleen shoved the hot gun into her purse and fled the room, locking the door behind her, hanging a Do Not Disturb sign on the knob.

Kathleen found John leaving Peggy’s room, white-faced and furious. He saw Kathleen coming down the hallway and met her halfway. 

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

Kathleen ignored the question. “How is she? Is Ellis in there?”

“He is,” John replied. “Where were you?”

“Is she going to be alright?” Kathleen asked.

“She’ll be fine,” John answered, starting to sound suspicious. “What did you do, Kathleen?”

Kathleen met her husband’s eyes. “Come with me. And we need to find Paulie.”

John drew in a deep breath and followed Kathleen around the corner only to see Paulie marching their way, leaving a nervous-looking Hal behind. Sending Hal back down the hall to stand outside Peggy’s door, Kathleen led the two other men to the room that contained Artie’s body, pausing before she unlocked the door, letting John and Paulie enter first.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” John exploded as Paulie slammed the door after them to hide the corpse from anyone walking by. “Kathleen, what did you  _ do _ ?”

“He’s the one who mangled Peggy,” Kathleen replied in a weak voice.

“So you  _ shot _ him?” Paulie blurted out. 

Kathleen looked up at her bodyguard. There was no way he could take back his exclamation or hide the horror on his face.

Paulie walked over to examine the body, studying the dead man’s face before closing his eyes in disgust.

“Boss, do you know who this is?” Paulie asked John.

John rubbed his face over his eyes. “From the ring on his finger ... And I’m really hoping I’m wrong, Paulie.”

“You ain’t wrong, Boss.”

“Who is it?” Kathleen asked, puzzled.

John spun on his heel to glare daggers at his wife. “It’s Albert Masseria’s nephew, Kathleen. He runs the west side.”

Kathleen felt like she was going to throw up. “Oh … god …”

“Yeah,” John agreed, turning back to the dead man on the floor. “You’ve fucked us hard, Kitten.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Obviously.”

The three of them stood in silence for a few moments before Paulie spoke up.

“We gotta get rid of him, Boss,” he said softly.

John nodded slowly. “We will.” He pointed at Kathleen. “And you’re gonna help.”

Night fell over Las Vegas. La Bella Ricorrere came alive for the second night in a row, but Giovanni and Kathleen Bianco were not on-sight. Nor was one half of their security heads. Leaving Gene, Madge, and Mr. James in charge, John, Kathleen and Paulie loaded the sheet-wrapped body of Artie Messaria into the trunk of Paulie’s car and started the long drive into the desert.

“How long are we going to drive?” Kathleen asked plaintively from the backseat.

John didn’t even turn around to look at his wife. “Until we can’t see the city lights anymore, Kathleen.”

“Oh,” Kathleen whispered and wrapped her arms around herself.

Paulie looked at Kathleen in the rearview mirror. He wanted to say something to reassure her, but he knew it would infuriate his boss and he knew the implication of the body’s identity.

After about an hour and a half, Paulie stopped the car. The two men got of the front seats, leaving Kathleen in the car. Scrambling out after them, Kathleen stopped short as they opened the trunk. John came around the side of the car, holding three shovels. As he passed Kathleen to the front of the car, he threw one at her feet.

“Pick it up, Kathleen,” he ordered. “You’re digging a fucking hole.”

Kathleen picked up her shovel and joined John in front of the car. The headlights illuminated the desert around them. Kathleen snuck a look at John’s profile. He was adamantly refusing to look at her, staring straight ahead into the darkness.

“John --” Kathleen began tentatively.

“I don’t want to hear you,” John snapped.

Kathleen bit her lips to keep from yelling back as tears dripped from her eyelashes and down her cheeks. Paulie laid the corpse on the ground near the front tires before making his way into the lights.

“No, Paulie,” John snapped. “Kathleen’s gonna do the honors.”

“Boss --” Paulie began.

“No!” John barked. “Kathleen got us into this. She’s gonna get us out.” John turned furiously to Kathleen, who took a step back in fear. “Start. Digging.”

Kathleen hesitated, palms sweaty as she held her shovel.

“I said …  _ dig _ !” John exclaimed, pointing to the ground.

Swallowing hard, Kathleen took a few steps forward and pushed her shovel into the hard-packed dirt. The ground didn’t give, so Kathleen pushed down on the blade with her foot. The metal bit into the ground, breaking the surface. Kathleen peeked up at her husband’s incensed face. Knowing nothing she could say would make a difference, she began to dig.

After 30 minutes, the hole was barely deep enough to bury a cat but Kathleen’s shirt was drenched with sweat and her denim pants were sticking to her legs. She was sobbing from the pain in her back and arms, but John had refused to lift a hand to help her. Paulie had stopped watching her struggle and was facing the opposite direction.

“I’m sorry, John, I am,” Kathleen wept, breathing heavy through her words. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

John closed his eyes, but wished he could close his ears. He hated the terror and desperation in her voice, but she really, really needed to learn that her actions had consequences. Another 10 minutes would be enough torture for her.

John didn’t even last 10 minutes. Kathleen’s shovel caught in the ground, knocking her off balance. He dropped his own shovel and jumped forward to catch her before she hit the ground. Paulie took that moment to dig in earnest, making more progress in a few minutes than Kathleen had in 35.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Kathleen howled into John’s shirt.

“I’m know, Kitten, I know.” John stroked her sweat-soaked hair and face. “We’ll figure it out. I swear it.”

“I saw her and I just lost my mind,” Kathleen admitted.

John’s mind flashed to the brutalized girl that had once been a pretty little thing from Omaha. He knew Kathleen had seen herself in Peggy and there was no way he could blame her for that.

“I know, baby.” John kissed her wet cheek. “Go sit down and Paulie and I’ll finish this.”

“No.” Kathleen wiped her nose on her sleeve and pulled herself from John’s arms. “Let’s finish this together.”

Picking up her dropped shovel, Kathleen stepped down into the trench to help Paulie. John watched as his exhausted, contrite wife hollowed out the grave that would hold the corpse of the man she shot. John shook his head and joined them. 

 


	17. Chapter 17

John walked down the hall of the private floor after cleaning himself up from the desert. He’d left Kathleen upstairs to rest and recover from the whole ordeal. Any other time, he would have stayed with her, but tonight, John wanted to check on Peggy. He found her sitting up in bed, the door open and girls scurrying in and out.

“Good evening, Peggy,” John said as he knocked on her open door.

“Mr. Bianco,” she said, trying to smile before remembering her missing teeth and covering her lips with her fingers, “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“I just wanted to check on you.” John pulled a chair up next to her bed and smiled kindly at the girl. “Make sure you have everything you could need or want before I head downstairs.”

“Things are going very well down there, sir,” Peggy replied.

“Oh?” John smiled, looking around at the room and noticing a girl waiting patiently in the doorway to gossip with Peggy. “Do you have yourself a little information whore highway here?”

Peggy laughed and grunted at the same time, hugging her ribs. “Please, Mr. Bianco, don’t make me laugh. It hurts too much to laugh still.”

“So, what am I going to be walking into downstairs?”

“A night just like last night,” Peggy replied. She paused, her brow furrowing before she added, “At least as much of it as I can remember.”

“Keep this up, Peggy, and you’ll be working under Madge pretty soon,” John said. “What has Dr. Ellis said about your injuries? Bed rest, ice and heat along with some pretty good pills I’m hoping.”

Peggy gestured at her nightstand, which was decorated with bottles of pills. “You could say that, Mr. Bianco.”

“We’ll make sure your teeth fixed as soon as the swelling goes down enough too.”

“I can’t wait.” Peggy covered her mouth with her hand again.

“I can only imagine.” John stood and patted Peggy’s shoulder gently, noticing how she shied away from his touch a little. “Now it’s time to follow the doctor’s orders and get some rest.”

“Mr. Bianco,” the girl who had been patiently waiting spoke up. “Delphine wanted you to know that Mr. Masseria is here and looking for you and his nephew.”

“That didn’t take long,” John muttered. “Thank you.”

“Hal’s takin’ him to find Gene ‘cause he’s on the floor someplace.”

“Thanks.”

John hurriedly left Peggy’s room and headed down to the security office. Gene’s hulking mass was easy to find on the state of the art security system. John rushed to meet Gene near one of the many bars on the casino floor.

“Gene,” John said as he approached the larger man from behind. “Where’s Masseria?”

“I haven’t seen him, Boss.” Gene barely turned when he heard John’s voice and kept scanning the room. “Why?”

“Hal is supposed to be bringing him to you.” John sighed heavily. “He’s looking for his fucking nephew already.”

“Okay. Paulie took care of that part with you earlier tonight, right?” Gene said, looking around for Hal and keeping his voice low enough so John could barely hear him.

“Yes.”

“Then we just tell him we haven’t seen him since last night.”

“I know what to tell him, Gene!” John snapped. He smoothed the front of his suit and inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little shaken.”

“Yeah, it’s not every day your wife shoots a mobster’s nephew,” Gene agreed in the same low voice.

John started, stared at Gene for a moment, and then burst into laughter. “Jesus Christ, Gene.”

Gene’s face remained impassive, even as the corners of his mouth twitched a little. “Yeah, Boss?”

John shook his head. “I’ll be in my office. If Hal brings Masseria to you, bring him to me.”

“You got it, Boss.” Gene straightened his shoulders and kept looking around the room. 

John walked up to his office. He fixed himself a scotch and gazed through the glass wall at the floor below. He lit a cigarette as he watched people while they enjoyed themselves.

His wandering mind was brought back to reality with a rapping of knuckles on his office door. He took a final drag off his cigarette and crushed it out before finishing his drink. John took a deep breath before exhaling. He stood up, smoothing his shirt front.

“Come in, Gene,” he called for his head of security.

Gene escorted Albert Masseria through the office door. “Mr. Masseria for you, sir.”

Albert Masseria waddled up to John’s desk. The short, fat boss was breathing heavily and sweating. 

“What the fuck kinda show you runnin’ here, Bianco?” he demanded, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to mop his wet face.

“Mr. Masseria,” John said, trying to sound concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I came here two hours ago, looking for my nephew.” 

“And?” John prompted.

“And I’ve been lead all over this fucking building by some low level security guard who can’t find a thumb if it was shoved up his ass.” Albert Masseria flumped into a chair before wiping the back of his neck. His small, beady eyes peered up at John suspiciously.

“Your nephew?” John tilted his head to the side, looking worried. He reminded himself to give Hal kudos for leading Albert Masseria on a wild goose chase …  _ after _ he ripped him a new asshole for letting Artie Masseria get away after the assault in the first place. “He’s missing?”

Albert Masseria glared up at John before his face changed from angry to exasperated. “Of course he’s fuckin’ missing! I haven’t walked around this place for the last two hours ‘cause I like to sweat. Last time anyone saw him, he went upstairs with one of your whores.”

“Well, then,” John paused, “I think Gene can go knock on a few doors. And we can go to the security office and search the entire resort right from there.” 

“Let’s go then.”

John escorted Masseria to the security center. He showed off the state of the art system to Masseria like he was any other big wig getting a tour. 

_ Just breath,  _ John reminded himself as Gene walked down the girl’s private floor, knocking on doors and asking if anyone remembers seeing Artie Masseria. 

Each girl shook her head for the camera as he was certain Gene instructed them to do. John was sure they were in the clear when Masseria spoke up.

“What about that one?” Masseria asked suddenly.

“Which one?” John asked.

Masseria pointed a stubby finger at the screen as Gene bypassed Peggy's room.

_ “That _ one,” he repeated.

“Oh. That one.” John tried to keep the worry from his voice. “She probably has a client.”

Masseria grunted and leaned toward the screen, like getting closer would let him see into the room.

“Door looks open to me,” he commented.

John's smile didn't falter. “She must be downstairs.”

Masseria looked up at John. “Where's your wife?”

John felt his friendly demeanor fall away instantly. “Why do you need to know?”

Masseria shrugged carelessly. “She's in charge of the whores, isn't she? She may know something.”

“She doesn't know anything,” John replied quickly.

“Yeah?” Masseria asked suspiciously.

“Yes.” John's tone ended that line of questioning immediately.

There was a prolonged pause before Masseria heaved himself to his feet.

“Well, I guess Artie’s just off somewhere, drunk and stupid,” the fat mobster said. “Thanks for the help, Bianco.”

“Of course,” John said politely. “Let me show you out.”

Masseria held up one pudgy hand, stopping John in his tracks.

“Don't bother,” he said. “Have one of your flunkies lead me to the door. I doubt I'll get a two hour run-around this time.” Masseria’s piggy, little eyes glared up at John. “I'll be seeing you soon, Bianco.”

John slept restlessly that night. The thought of Masseria and the things he may do once he figured out his nephew was in a hole kept his mind racing. He was worried about Kathleen, especially if Masseria figured out  _ she _ killed his nephew. 

Those same thoughts must have kept Paulie awake as well. He was already sitting in the vestibule when John opened the door to grab the paper.

“Paulie!” John exclaimed, jumping a foot. “What the hell are you doing here so early?”

“Sorry, Boss,” Paulie said. “After your conversation with Masseria, I thought a little guard duty may be in order.” 

John sighed. “You think he’s gonna try something.”

“As soon as he’s certain that nephew of his ain’t just drunk somewhere.”

“Great.” John walked back into the suite. “Come on in, Paulie.”

Paulie walked into the lavish penthouse suite after John, latching the chain behind him. John made his way to the table where Kathleen was sitting, pouring a cup from a carafe of coffee. 

“Would you like some, Paulie?” she asked.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Paulie accepted the cup and saucer, standing awkwardly next to the table.

“Isn’t this time of day a little early for you, Paulie?” Kathleen asked even though she already knew the answer. She wanted to see how Paulie was going to treat her.

“I’m here to do what the boss tasked me with the day we met.” He paused as he put down his coffee cup. “Protect you.”

“Paulie -- ” John started.

Paulie cut John off. “‘Cause Albert Masseria was here last night and knows his nephew was with one of our girls. And he thinks you know something. Once Masseria figures out Artie’s in a hole, he gonna try and get revenge.”

“That’s  _ enough, _ Paulie!” John snapped.

“No, John,” Kathleen said sharply, wide-eyed but painfully calm. “You can’t protect me from your way of life anymore. It’s  _ our _ way of life now. Paulie is right to tell me the truth. I need to hear someone say it.” She glared at John. “I need to know what to expect so I can handle myself better next time.”

“Okay,” John said, barely hiding a grin at her vehemence. “From today on, you do not leave this room without your gun. Secondly, we’re going to have to show you how to shoot and maintain it. Third, and this is  _ not _ negotiable, you aren’t to go anywhere without Paulie.” 

Kathleen looked at her body guard, who was staring at her like she was the only person in the room. The implication of her actions were becoming more and more real.

“Paulie, I’ll be using the ladies room alone,” she tried to joke even as the knot in her stomach grew tighter. She stood up, glad that her dressing gown and nightgown were long enough to cover her trembling legs. “And I’ll be showering alone.” Kathleen immediately pointed at John, who was opening his mouth to make a comment. “Alone  _ this _ time,” she added without missing a beat.

Kathleen left the room, leaving John and Paulie alone. John watched her leave and, as soon as she was gone, swiftly turned to Paulie.

“If anything happens to her, Paulie, no matter how small, I’m not gonna have to tell you how bad that’ll be for you, right?” John asked.

Paulie nodded. “Yeah, Boss. I get it.”

John walked over to the window overlooking the quiet Strip with the wide expanse of desert stretching for miles behind it. With his back to Paulie, John didn’t have to stop his hands from shaking as he raised his coffee to his lips.

A week later, John was signing paychecks when his office door opened. Kathleen came striding in with Paulie at her heels. The two had been almost inseparable since Albert Masseria’s first and only visit. At first, Kathleen had been resistant to Paulie’s omniscient presence, leading him on useless tasks through the resort until she gave up when she couldn’t shake him. Now there were such a familiar sight, no one could remember when they  _ weren’t _ together all the time.

“Hi, love.” Kathleen greeted John with a kiss on the cheek, leaving a red smear of lipstick. Wiping it off with her thumb, Kathleen went on, “Paulie and I have to run out for a while.”

John flicked his glance away from his wife to her bodyguard. “Oh, yeah? Where?”

Kathleen shrugged carelessly. “The usual female places: beauty salon, manicurist, the grocer’s. Do you really want to know?”

John shook his head. “Not really. Be careful.”

Kathleen patted her purse and John knew her gun was in there. “I will be. Promise.”

John watched Kathleen walk out of his office, exchanging a glance with Paulie. Kathleen seemed calm and confident with her outing, but it was the first time she’d been out of the casino since Masseria’s visit and John was sure she was apprehensive.

“Paulie,” he said simply.

“I know, Boss,” Paulie replied, closing the door after them.

Sliding into the back of the Cadillac, Kathleen exhaled a deep breath. She could do this. It was just one errand. It was an important one and one that could be put off no longer. She glanced out each window fearfully, sure that an armed man would appear out of thin air to kill her, but the area was clear.

“Where to first, Ma’am?” Paulie asked from the driver’s seat.

Kathleen handed Paulie a slip of paper. “This address, please, Paulie.”

The bodyguard’s brow furrowed. “What is this?”

“Just drive, Paulie,” Kathleen said.

“Ma’am, if we’re going somewhere I don’t know, I’d rather bring --” Paulie began, turning in his seat.

“Drive. Now,” Kathleen ordered.

Paulie set his jaw, but didn’t argue as he -- against his better judgement -- started to drive away. Kathleen leaned back against the seat, took a deep breath, and looked out the window.

The building was small and white with a pleasant facade. Paulie eyed it suspiciously as he pulled up. 

“What is this, Ma’am?” he asked.

“Never mind,” Kathleen said, opening her door. Paulie began to get out of the door, but Kathleen laid her hand on her shoulder. “No, Paulie. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Your safety concerns me.” Paulie got out of the car and finished opening her door.

Kathleen glared up at the tall man, then acquiesced. “Fine, you can come in, but you’ll say nothing. Not to me, to Madge, and especially Mr. Bianco.”

The conflict of duties played across Paulie’s face and conscious as he followed Kathleen into the building. They weren’t inside more than 10 minutes before another car pulled up behind their Cadillac to wait.


	18. Chapter 18

An hour later, Kathleen and Paulie emerged from the building, the first part of that particular errand finished. Kathleen's hands were shaking as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her tear-blurred vision. Next to her, Paulie jaw was set, disapproval dripping from his pores. He was so deep in thought, he almost didn't notice the two men step from the car and start approaching them at a fast clip. One of them pulled a gun and Paulie reacted immediately.

“Get down!” he shouted, shoving Kathleen to the ground as the first shot rang out. Paulie knelt in front of her, pulling his gun and firing.

A bellowed curse and an explosion of blood from one of the advancing men's thighs reminded Kathleen of her own gun. Sitting up a little, she fumbled with the clasp of her purse.

“Get down, goddamn it!” Paulie yelled in her face as he took aim at the second man, pressing one large hand on her chest, pinning her against the ground.

A bullet ripped past Paulie's arm, shredding the sleeve of his suit jacket. Paulie pulled the trigger as Kathleen screamed and covered her head. She didn't know what happened until Paulie yanked her to her feet and dragged her to their car. The Cadillac that had delivered the hitmen was long gone, short one passenger. Paulie had managed to take out the second shooter with a shot to the chest while the man with the leg wound fled back into the Caddy.

Paulie yanked open the door and threw Kathleen across the backseat.

“Lay down!” he snapped over his shoulder and he raced away from the scene.

“Are you hit?” Kathleen could hear the hysterical glint in her voice.

“Dunno,” Paulie replied, turning down a side street.

“Paulie, are you hurt?” she demanded

Paulie’s silence was more upsetting to Kathleen then the fire fight she just walked away from could ever be.

“Where are we going?” Kathleen asked, changing the tone of her voice. She was calm and in control again.

Paulie refused to answer and it took a few minutes before pulling up to and then behind a squat, cinder-block house. Kathleen sat up, peering out the window.

“What is this place, Paulie?” she asked again.

“It's a safe house,” Paulie replied, getting out of the car. “Boss bought it right before the casino opened.”

“Why?” Kathleen followed Paulie up the back steps as he unlocked the door.

Paulie shrugged. “For protection. Aren't you glad he did?”

Kathleen face fell as she entered the unfurnished house and Paulie locked the door behind them.

Paulie opened a folding chair in the kitchen and pointed at it. Kathleen sat down before her knees gave out as Paulie dialed the phone.

“Boss? The chicken’s home to roost.”

“What?” The absurdity of Paulie's statement made Kathleen snort, but a quick glare from her bodyguard shut her up.

“Yeah. See you soon.” Paulie hung up and turned to Kathleen. “Boss is on his way. We wait here.”

Kathleen twisted her fingers in her lap and permitted herself to start crying. Uncomfortable but unwilling to leave the room, Paulie cringed at her tears before looking away. It only took a few minutes for Kathleen to stop crying and regain her composure.

“Paulie, are you hit?” Kathleen asked again.

Paulie didn't look Kathleen's way as he stood at the kitchen door, holding his gun at the ready.

“No,” he said shortly.

“Let me look,” Kathleen said, starting to get up.

“Sit down!” Paulie barked, startling Kathleen enough to make her plop back down into her seat.

A car roaring up jerked Kathleen and Paulie out of their silent reveries. Paulie moved the curtain infinitesimally before opening the door. John shoved the door open in his haste to get in, almost throwing Paulie off-balance.

“Kathleen!” he exclaimed. “Thank God! Are you alright?”

“I am,” Kathleen replied, getting up to hug him.

“No, sit down,” John insisted, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Kathleen rested her cheek against his stomach. John turned to face Paulie. “What the hell happened?”

“We were leaving the --” Paulie began.

“Salon!” Kathleen interrupted quickly.

“Salon,” Paulie continued without looking at her, “and two men approached. They opened fire right on the street. One's dead. The other has a leg wound but he managed to get back in the car.”

“Was there a third man in the car?” John asked.

Paulie nodded. “A driver.”

“Three guys to take me out?” Kathleen asked, smiling weakly.

John gave Kathleen a hard look. “This is nothing to laugh about, Kathleen.”

“Who's laughing?” Kathleen muttered as John turned back to Paulie.

“We're gonna have to get this under control,” John sighed, sounding tense. “Did you recognize any of them?”

“No, but I have a pretty good idea who sent them.”

“Me too,” Kathleen chimed in.

“We’ve got to put a stop to this before things get even more out of hand,” John said as he and Paulie ignored Kathleen.

“Chicago, Boss?” Paulie asked.

John stroked Kathleen's disheveled hair off her face. “Yeah, Paulie. We'll all fly out tomorrow morning.”

“All of us?” Kathleen piped up. “I don't know if I should --”

“We’ve got no choice, Kitten,” John interrupted. “ _You_ were the target. _You_ brought this down on us. One way or the other, _you're_ gonna be part of the solution.”

John, Kathleen and Paulie pulled in front of the Setaro office building. Paulie was the first out of the cab. Even though it was perfectly safe in Chicago and even safer this close to the Setaro building, he paused to look around before allowing Kathleen to exit the cab onto the curb.

The attractive blonde sitting at the reception desk smiled as John walked up to her.

“Mr. Bianco, I assume,” she said as buzzed back to security.

John nodded shortly. “Yes. With Mrs. Bianco and an associate.”

“Please.” The receptionist waved them around the corner. “Security is expecting you.” She glanced at Kathleen. “All of you.”

“Thank you,” John said as he took Kathleen's elbow to lead her away.

Two guards, hands folded in front of themselves, waited for the trio to approach the small desk as the elevator arrived and opened. One of the men held the elevator open while the second turned a lock box around on the table.

“Your weapons,” he ordered as he opened the box. “Guns, knives, knuckles or any other weapons in the box.”

“You’re gonna need a bigger box.” Paulie smiled mirthlessly and started to unload a small arsenal onto the table. He pulled two guns from holsters under his jacket, another from a holster on his belt behind his back, brass knuckles from one jacket pocket and a knife from the other.

The guard whistled his approval. “You don’t mess around.”

“You do?” Paulie asked drily as he bent over to remove the small gun and knives in his ankle holsters before placing the last of his weapons in the box.

The guard ignored Paulie’s question and grabbed a second lock box for John’s two guns. The guard started to close the lid when Kathleen stepped up to the table.

“Ma’am?” he asked, surprised.

Kathleen unclasped her clutch and pulled her .22 out. She held it flat in her palm before slipping it into the case.

“It’s been the Wild West in Vegas for a long time,” she said with a small smile.

“Right this way.” The other guard motioned for them to enter the waiting elevator.

Paulie and Setaro’s man stood behind John and Kathleen, who were arm in arm as if they were taking a ride up to the penthouse of their own hotel and not into what John knew could be a death sentence. If the hit on Kathleen was sanctioned, this meeting was going to end very differently than he’d hoped. The elevator doors opened and John exhaled. The hallway in front of them was busy with people milling about, chatting and smiling.

 _This is a good start,_ he thought and escorted Kathleen out of the elevator.

Paulie stepped out and to the side of the elevator. John was thankful Paulie knew his place and role here as well as he did. John walked up to another man at the office door.

“Giovanni Bianco for Mr. Setaro,” he announced even though everyone there already knew why they were here.

The guard knocked on the office door behind him without looking.

To John’s surprise, Nicolo Setaro greeted them as the door opened.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bianco,” he said evenly. “Please come in.”

John and Kathleen walked into the office. Dominic Setaro rose from behind his polished oak desk. Kathleen froze to the floor, causing John to stop walking abruptly before giving her arm a sharp tug to get her moving again.

“Have a seat,” Dominic said in his heavy Italian accent. “Would you care for a drink after your travels?”

“Yes,” Kathleen said anxiously as she took a seat. She thought for a moment before saying “No” just as quickly.

“It’s been a rough 20 hours,” John said, placing his hand on his wife’s shoulder before sitting himself.

Dominic Setaro nodded at Nicolo. The younger man began to pour a round of bourbons. He handed them around, Kathleen refusing hers with a wave of a trembling hand.

“Please tell me exactly what happened yesterday morning,” Dominic Setaro said to John.

“It’s your story, Kathleen.” John said looking at his wife. When Kathleen didn’t answer right away, John gave her knee a squeeze. “Come on, Kitten,” he said softly. “Just tell him.”

For the first time since Kathleen had gotten to Las Vegas with John, she felt real terror. It was the first time she realized what the life she chose was about.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Kathleen told her story to Dominic and Nicolo as they sipped their drinks. The Setaro men exchanged identical glances when she got to the attempted hit on her. Kathleen praised Paulie for his actions and bravery and John for having a plan in place just in case things ever went south before her voice trailed off.

“And who was the coward that ordered the hit on you?” Dominic asked quietly.

“We believe it was Albert Masseria,” John said before Kathleen could answer. “Paulie didn’t get a good enough look at the guys to recognize any of them.”

“So, it could have been anyone?” Nicolo chimed in.

“No,” Kathleen replied.

John reached over and took his wife’s hand. “It’s unlikely anyone else would put a hit on Kathleen.” John paused for a moment. “But it is possible.”

“Who else -- ” Kathleen began to protest before a wave of Dominic’s hand silenced her.

“This has gone on long enough in Las Vegas.” He pushed his chair out and stood. “We need to get things under control.” He turned to Nicolo as he spoke. “Bianco is the _only_ head out there with any respect. This is the fourth hit without my permission.” He slammed his hand on the desk, making Nicolo, John, and Kathleen jump. The old man he had become was replaced with the fire of the young man deep inside him. “These heads out there are done. Bianco, I’m declaring you the Boss of Las Vegas.”

John’s mouth dropped before he started to smile slightly. He squeezed Kathleen’s hand excitedly, but Kathleen’s stomach twisted into a knot.

Dominic’s deep-set black eyes locked with John’s. “Now. Clean up the city, Bianco, and teach the people there some respect. Nicolo will accompany you back home and call a meeting with the heads to explain my decision here today.”

Kathleen squeezed John’s hand hard, digging her nails into his palm.

“Mr. Setaro,” John said standing up. He nearly had to pry his hand from Kathleen’s vice-like grip, “I’ll take care of things out in Vegas for you.”

“I expect nothing less.”

Kathleen stood up slowly as John reached across the desk and shook Dominic’s hand. When the handshake ended, Dominic turned to Kathleen, locking eyes with her.

“I expect you’ll feel much better after all this is behind you, Mrs. Bianco,” he said in a low voice.

His gaze was unsettling and Kathleen had a hard time breaking it. She swallowed her fear to reply “Yes, of course” in a shaky voice.

“I don’t want to hear that you’re in any more trouble,” Dominic said next.

John and Nicolo nodded in agreement, but Kathleen recoiled a little from the older man. What he said and what he meant were utterly and completely different, but only Kathleen seemed to realize it.

“I plan to stay as far away from trouble as I can, Mr. Setaro,” Kathleen promised.

Dominic Setaro took his time sitting down and arranging papers neatly on his already-tidy desk before looking up at Kathleen again.

“I hope so, Mrs. Bianco,” he said. He tapped a pile of papers into order before folding his hands on top of them. He looked up at her from under his heavy brows. “For your sake.”


	19. Chapter 19

Nicolo Setaro planned on settling into one of the high-roller penthouses for his stay in Las Vegas. There was no telling how long his visit from Chicago was going to be this time, but he and John had agreed on the flight home that his first stay in Vegas wasn’t nearly long enough to get his father’s point across.

Kathleen was noticeably silent on the drive from the Las Vegas airport back to La Bella Ricorrere. The Setaros hadn’t been at the opening night gala, so pulling up in front the resort was Nicolo’s first time seeing the resort.

“Bianco, it’s incredible,” Nicolo said, stepping out as a valet opened his door. “And so busy this early in the evening.”

John nodded, smiling at Kathleen, who met his eyes but didn’t respond in kind. Puzzled, John turned back to Nicolo as the men approached the entrance. Kathleen and Paulie took up the rear of the group, behind the bell boys carrying Nicolo’s luggage.

“Are you alright, Miss?” Paulie asked Kathleen quietly.

“New York is called The City That Never Sleeps, Mr. Setaro, but I really do think that Las Vegas will someday take that crown,” John was saying.

“Call me Nicolo,” the  _ consigliere _ suggested.

“I’m fine,” Kathleen said faintly, her eyes unfocused and wide.

“If you insist, Nicolo,” John said, making Nicolo laugh politely.

“I think you’re lying,” Paulie said.

Kathleen kept staring forward, not looking up at her bodyguard. They followed Nicolo and John into the hotel and stood off to the side together as Nicolo asked John questions. John looked Kathleen’s way, waving her into the chat, but she smiled slightly, shaking her head no. Paulie watched this exchange, a concerned look on his face.

“Miss, did you want me to take you upstairs?” he asked.

Kathleen nodded. “Yes, please.”

Forcing a pleasant smile onto her face, Kathleen headed over to Nicolo and John.

“Kathleen, I was just telling Nicolo --” John began, moving to put his arm around her waist.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” Kathleen interrupted. “I’m utterly exhausted. I’m going to have to excuse myself.” She held her hand out to Nicolo, who took it. “Mr. Setaro, we’ll meet for brunch at the restaurant, yes? I’ll set everything up.”

“Of course, Mrs. Bianco,” Nicolo said. “It’s been a very hard time for you.”

“Giovanni, I’ll see you in the morning.” Kathleen stood on her tiptoes to kiss John’s cheek lightly. “I’m sure I’ll be fast asleep when you come up.”

“Good night, Kitten,” John said, giving her a one armed hug. He kissed her back. “Get some rest.”

Kathleen smiled wanly at the two men before walking away like a sleepwalker, followed closely by Paulie. Nicolo and John watched her go. When she disappeared into the crowd, John turned back to Nicolo.

“Shall we have dinner and discuss the meeting?” John asked.

Paulie unlocked the penthouse door and opened it for her. Kathleen wandered in, feeling lost and aimless. Paulie closed the door after both of them and stood there for a moment, watching his boss’ wife wander around the room, picking things up and putting them down again in random places. It was when he saw the wet tear tracks on her face that he finally spoke up.

“Is this about the hit, Miss, or about the other thing?”

Kathleen turned on Paulie, a little of her old spark flaring up in her tired eyes.

“I told you not to mention that,” she snapped.

“Yeah, well, I am,” Paulie went on relentlessly, ignoring Kathleen’s anger. “Are you gonna tell Boss where we were?”

The anger building inside Kathleen finally exploded and she dove across the room, colliding with Paulie’s immobile frame. She punched his chest a few times before her rage fizzled out and turned into tears. She rested her forehead on Paulie’s chest and wept while the man stood there, not moving, not touching her, until she calmed down. She took a deep breath, stepped back, and wiped her cheeks with her hands. She hiccuped a few times before looking up at Paulie with an imperious gaze, hands on her hips.

“I’ll do what has to be done when the time comes,” she replied. “You can go now, Paulie.”

Paulie’s face didn’t change expression. “Yes, Miss. Night.”

Kathleen stayed right where she was, in the exact pose, until Paulie shut the door behind him. Once she was alone, Kathleen’s whole body sagged in exhaustion and she staggered into her bedroom to collapse.

Hours later, John settled Nicolo into his suite and headed upstairs. Sitting outside his penthouse door was Paulie, holding, but not reading, a newspaper. John approached him, wondering just what the man could still be doing up.

“Paulie?” John asked. “Is everything alright?”

Paulie closed the paper and stood up, folding his hands behind his back. “No, Boss.”

“What’s the matter?” John asked.

“It’s Mrs. Bianco,” Paulie said uneasily. “I think she’s sick.” 

“Kathleen? Sick? What are you talking about?” John demanded.

“We weren’t at the salon when the hit happened,” Paulie admitted. “We were at a doctor’s office.”

“Why didn’t she -- why didn’t _you_ tell me sooner?” John asked.

“Mrs. Bianco asked me not to,” Paulie said, sounded a little ashamed.

“But you are anyway.” John rubbed his forehead. Paulie nodded. “So, you’re betraying her trust,” John went on. “Paulie, I don’t know --”

“Boss, I --” Paulie interrupted.

John held his hand up, silencing Paulie immediately. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Paulie dropped his eyes to his shoes. “Night, Boss.”

John strode into the penthouse and straight into the bedroom. He knew it was nearly midnight and Kathleen had probably been asleep for hours, but he wanted answers. John found Kathleen curled up on the bed, still dressed. John watched her sleep for a few minutes before stripping off his jacket and tie and joining her on the bed. Curling up behind her, John pulled Kathleen against his chest and kissed the back of her neck as he fell asleep.

John wasn’t even fully awake when he felt Kathleen stirring. She was making that little moan in the back of her throat she usually made when she was barely awake and hungover, but there was no evidence in the penthouse that she’d drank at all the night before. John leaned up on his elbow as Kathleen shifted onto her back to look up at him.

“Morning,” he said. Kathleen smiled a little. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days and John hated to confront her this early, but he had questions. “So, I talked to --”

“Did you talk to Nicolo last night about the meeting today?” Kathleen interrupted. As exhausted as she looked, she sounded wide-awake. “It might be best if I sat the first meeting out. There’s going to be a lot of angry mobsters in one place. No need to annoy them more by bringing your wife along.”

John waited patiently. “Are you finished?”

Kathleen furrowed her brow. “What’s wrong?”

“Kathleen, where were you when Masseria’s men caught up with you?” John asked.

His wife’s eyes widened for a split second. John could see her biting the inside of her lip.

“What?” she asked innocently.

John rolled his eyes. “Kitten, please. We’ve known each other too long. Just tell me the truth.”

“I was at the salon,” Kathleen replied too quickly. “You never saw my new hairstyle because it went flat when the hit was going on.”

“Oh? And that’s all you want to say?” 

Kathleen shrugged. “Of course.”

John nodded slowly. “If you say so.”

Kathleen wiggled off the bed and began to undress. John tried not to get distracted, but … naked Kathleen … John shook his head. No. What Paulie said last night weighed heavily on his mind. 

Sitting up on the side of the bed, John watched Kathleen pull on her dressing gown and head toward the bathroom.

“Kathleen?” he asked quietly.

“Yes?” Kathleen glanced at him as she paused in the doorway.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything you want to tell me?” John looked at her expectantly.

Kathleen smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I promise, John: There’s nothing nefarious going on.”

Over brunch with Nicolo Setaro, John watched as Kathleen picked at her food and asked him how he was going to rein in the other bosses in town.

“No offense, Nicolo, but they didn't listen to you the first time,” Kathleen was saying. “What makes you think this time will be different?”

Nicolo nodded, setting his fork down. “This time, Mrs. Bianco, the retribution will be more violent and much more swift.” Nicolo pushed his plate away and lit a cigarette. “My father has very strong feelings about what happened to you.”

“Funny,” Kathleen teased lightly, looking at John with her practiced smile, “I have very strong feelings about it too. However, one of the bosses was whacked  _ during  _ my wedding and it didn’t seem to help.”

Nicolo's dour face broke into a grin. “It'll be taken care of, Mrs. Bianco. Your husband and I will make sure of that.”

That evening, Nicolo summoned every boss and underboss to La Bella Ricorrere. Two of his personal security members were flown in to guard the double doors that lead to the largest conference room the hotel had. A meeting being called by Nicolo Setaro was enough to make any mans’ heart skip a beat, but being forced to walk between these two man mountains waiting to check for weapons with their guns already drawn, was terrifying.

John and Nicolo stood at the far end of the 40 person conference table; Nicolo at the head and John on his right. The symbolism was not lost on many as Nicolo greeted each head and underboss -- many of whom he’d never met -- by name and directed them to a seat. Nicolo carefully positioned each underboss to the right of their boss. As soon as the final few members strode in, Nicolo sat down.

“I would like to thank all of you for coming to meet with us today,” he began.

“Us?” Albert Masseria demanded, interrupting Nicolo. He peered John's way with a disgusted look.

With a quick nod of his head, Nicolo’s Chicago security guards stepped off the wall behind Albert Masseria and his underboss. In near synchronization, they each produced a thin wire and had it around each mans throat. The two men clawed and fought as Nicolo’s guards drained the life out of them. The fat Albert Masseria slumped forward first, followed shortly after by his younger underboss.

Nicolo continued talking as if nothing was happening. “The meeting today is about the lack of respect and organization here in Las Vegas.”

Without meeting each other’s eyes, the other men around the table looked at and then quickly away from Albert Masseria and his underboss.

“Respect will be had from  _ everyone _ here moving forward, gentlemen,” Nicolo continued without missing a beat. “This means no unauthorized hits are to be ordered. If the men below your underbosses carry out a hit without your order, your fate will remain the same.” Nicolo motioned smoothly at the two men slumped lifeless over the table. “I suggest thinning out your brainless muscle with delusions of grandeur to prevent the possibilities of such a misunderstand from re-occurring.” Nicolo pushed his chair from the table and stood slowly. “Now, so you understand exactly how serious my father is about getting the respect he deserves …”

Nicolo motioned to the double doors. Paulie and Gene stood outside of the doors, looking grim. Between them was a pallet jack with a mound covered by a grey drop cloth. It was wheeled into the conference room and the cloth removed. The mutilated bodies of four men lay on the pallet. 

Nicolo’s face was blank. “And this is, gentlemen, is what happens when you carry out a hit on women and children.”

The muted mumbling and grumbling of men trying to look away from the carnage on the pallet quietly filled the room. A few hardened bosses and underbosses even turned their heads completely.  

“Aside from trying to make us all sick,”  Luigi Miraglia spoke up, “what’s the rest of this meeting about?”

“Thank you, Mr. Miraglia,” Nicolo continued in a low voice. He slowly began to pace around the table as the rest of the heads turned their attention from the bodies on the pallet back to him. “The second reason for this meeting is to restructure Vegas.” 

Everyone in the room perked up and gave Nicolo their full attention.

“What do you mean ‘restructure Vegas’?” Miraglia asked.

Nicolo smiled mirthlessly. “It has been every faction for themselves out here for far too long. My father has decided to promote one of you heads here to Boss.” He paused for just a moment as the men sitting around the table relished in the thought of being the Boss. “There will be no argument, no discussion, and especially no complaints. You will all report to Bianco --”

The room exploded with immediate conversation, finger pointing and shouting. Luigi Miraglia stood quickly and became the loudest of the group.

“What the  _ fuck _ are you talkin’ about?” he yelled above the others. “You think I’m gonna take orders from a nobody prick like Bianco, your father is out of his goddamn mind --”

The shot that rang out surprised everyone, including Nicolo Setaro. John sat at the table, gun in hand, as Luigi Miraglia slumped dead in his seat. John put the gun down on the table calmly as the rest of the room froze and looked at him.

“This is  _ not _ a request,” John said, his voice deliberately slow and quiet. “This is a direct order from Dominic Setaro. He will not see Vegas go through what Chicago went through 20 years ago. If you are unhappy with the way things are now, get the fuck out of my resort and my city tonight. Otherwise, more of this will be sanctioned. Eventually I will find an underboss who will fall in line with what the Setaros and I are envisioning.”

John pushed his chair out and stood up. The remaining bosses and underbosses, now suddenly demoted to capos and soldiers, watched him apprehensively.

“Let's put this unfortunate business behind us for now,” John suggested grandly. “I hope everyone will take advantage of the resort. Everything is on me tonight, gentlemen.” 

Walking past the dead men without so much as a second glance, John joined Nicolo at the door as Paulie, Gene, and the Setaro men got to tossing the corpses on top of the mutilated men on the pallet. Each mobster stopped and shook John and Nicolo’s hands on their way out of the room. Once they were all gone, John turned to the security detail.

“Paulie?” he said. “You know what to do.”

Paulie nodded. “Yeah, Boss.”

Nicolo lit a cigarette as the corpse-covered pallet jack was removed from the room. Alone at last, he turned to John. 

“You’re a lot colder than I first thought, Bianco,” he commented mildly.

John shrugged negligently with one shoulder. “No room for softness in this town.”

Nicolo nodded as the two men left the room, pulling the doors closed behind them. Coming down the hallway toward them were two maids, armed with their cleaning carts. John palmed them each a $100 bill and the keys to the conference room.

“Return those keys to my secretary as soon as you’ve finished,” John ordered.

The maids nodded without speaking. Nicolo watched as the two women walked into the conference room and locked the door after them.

“Friends of yours?” he chuckled.

John didn’t answer, his mind already on other things. He needed a _consiglier_ e. A man he could trust. A man who knew him. A man who understood his vision. A man --

_ Wait. Why a man?  _ John thought.

“Nicolo, could you excuse me?” John said suddenly.

“Of course. Is everything alright?” Nicolo asked.

John nodded. “Yes. I need to find my wife.”


	20. Chapter 20

John found Kathleen sitting at his desk in the window-walled office. She was leaning back in the chair, feet on the desk, reading a sheaf of papers. Her glasses were slipping down her nose, a pencil clenched between her teeth.

“You look busy,” John commented as he walked in.

Kathleen popped the pencil out of her mouth before jamming it into her bun. She leaned her head back for a moment before smiling at John.

“We need to do something about the shops,” she said, sounding annoyed. “They’re _already_ hemorrhaging money. Apparently, we're paying exorbitant delivery costs. I don’t even know why that’s happening with three-quarters of the stock coming from Los Angeles.”

“Kitten, put that down a minute.” John took the papers out of her hand as he sat on the desk in front of her. He wrapped one hand around her ankle. “I need to talk to you.”

“Sure,” Kathleen agreed. “How’d the meeting go, killer?”

“What?” John asked, surprised.

“Did you or did you not shoot someone in our conference room?” Kathleen asked, threading her fingers behind her head in a relaxed way. She arched an eyebrow.

“How do you even _know_ that?” John couldn’t stop his grin.

“Oh, please,” Kathleen snorted. “Haven’t you learned? I know everything.”

“Well, _aside_ from the shooting, the meeting went well.” John squeezed Kathleen’s ankle, tracing his thumb over her ankle bone. “I’m officially in charge of Vegas.”

Kathleen took so long to answer, John thought she had lost the power of speech.

“All of it?” she finally said in a hushed voice.

“Well, I’m not the mayor --”

“Yet.”

“Yet. But there isn’t a person above me. I’m the top.” Saying it out loud didn’t make it feel any more real. “Life couldn’t get any better right now, Kitten. It's like the only news I get these days is good.”

Kathleen pressed her lips together, not meeting John’s eyes. She took a deep breath before speaking up.

“John, I have ... something … to tell --” Kathleen’s voice faltered.

“The first thing I need to do is pick a _consigliere_ ,” John went on.

“John, listen, I have news --” Kathleen tried again.

“I want it to be you,” John said.

“Me what?” Kathleen asked.

“You. To be my _consigliere_.”

“Oh, my Christ. I can’t do that.” Kathleen forgot what she’d been trying to tell John. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” John said stubbornly. “You’re the person I trust the most.”

“No one will take you seriously,” Kathleen said. “The Setaros will think I had something to do with it. You’ll be overthrown immediately.”

John crossed his arms. “Who do you suggest then?”

“Paulie,” Kathleen said automatically.

“He can’t be your bodyguard and my _consigliere_.” John shook his head. “He doesn’t have the temperament for it.”

“So, pick someone from one of the other factions,” Kathleen said.

“I can’t trust them yet,” John ran his hand over his mouth before holding his chin while he thought. “They need to prove their loyalty first.”

“Nothing says “Let’s build up some trust” like hiring the underboss of the guy you shot to be your _consigliere_.” Kathleen winked at her husband.

“Look, if you’re just gonna joke --” John snapped.

“Honey, honey, wait. I’m sorry,” Kathleen said, starting to laugh a little. She sat up and grabbed John by the arm as he stood up to walk away from her. “I’m just trying to make you smile.”

“Find another way,” John recommended.

“Okay.” Kathleen swallowed hard. It was now or never. “I’m going to -- we’re -- you’re --”

“Boss?” Gene walked in without knocking, cutting Kathleen off.

“Goddamn it,” Kathleen swore. She stood up, straightening her skirt. “I’m going to check on the girls.”

“Let’s have dinner later,” John called after her as she left the room.

“Yeah.” Kathleen slammed the door a little harder than necessary.

Kathleen found Madge and Delphine in the “hen house,” their little shared office space on the girls’ floor. There was a buzz of activity around them as men and women came and went in and out of bedrooms.

“How’s the night going?” Kathleen asked as she walked in.

Madge looked up from the ledger she was pouring over. She snubbed out her cigarette and turned the large book toward Kathleen. Kathleen squinted a little, trying to make heads or tails of the chicken scratching.

“Just tell me what it says, Madge,” Kathleen ordered sharply. “It looks like you write with your feet.”

“It’s been a good week, Mrs. Bianco,” Madge said. She pushed the book toward Delphine, who placed it in a desk drawer before locking it. “Even with Peggy off the boards.”

“Is she getting better?” Kathleen asked. She started to reach for a cigarette, then stopped herself. “I haven’t checked on her for a while.”

“She’s healing up real nice, Missus,” Delphine piped up. “She’s near ready to get to the dentist.”

Kathleen nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. After I’m done with her, I’m going down to the floor. Contact me there if you need anything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two girls agreed.

Kathleen found Peggy sitting at her dressing table, dabbing at her face with a powder puff. She looked much better than the last time Kathleen had seen her, which was about a week after the attack.

“May I come in?” Kathleen asked, smiling.

“Yes, please!” Peggy’s voice had a still-noticeable lisp as she spoke through her toothless mouth, but everything else seemed to be fixed up quite nicely.

“Tell me how you’ve been, Peggy,” Kathleen said, sitting down on a soft chair near the window.

“Much better,” the younger girl replied. “I’m getting my teeth fixed soon and Delphine was able to get my other problem taken care of real easy.”

Kathleen looked confused. “What other problem?”

“The baby,” Peggy replied. When the confusion on Kathleen’s face melted into shock, Peggy put her hands over her cheeks. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t know,” Kathleen managed to get out. “You were pregnant?”

Peggy nodded, her face ashen. “Dr. Ellis learned it when he was examining me. I thought Delphine would have told you.”

“She failed to mention,” Kathleen said tersely.

“Don’t be mad,” Peggy begged.

“Why do you always think people are going to be mad at you, honey?” Kathleen asked, getting up on unsteady legs. She patted Peggy’s thin shoulder. “It’s not your fault you got pregnant. It happens. I’m not happy I didn’t know, but I’m not mad.”

Peggy looked relieved as Kathleen bid her good-bye and left the room to find Delphine.

“Madge, take a walk,” Kathleen said abruptly.

Madge and Delphine exchanged a look before Madge left. Kathleen cocked her head to the side and regarded the redhead in front of her.

“So, we have an abortionist on staff?” Kathleen asked without preamble.

Delphine's face went white for a split second. “I'm sorry, Missus?”

“Don't give me that Southern-fried sweetness,” Kathleen snapped. “Peggy told me that you helped her out of a spot. Is it Ellis?”

Delphine snorted. “Ellis? That man couldn't find a baby if you hit him with one.”

“Then who is it?” Kathleen demanded.

“You can't deny the girls this, Missus,” Delphine said immediately. “The clients don't wanna wear rubbers. We can help them with the pox, but babies ain't cured with penicillin.”

“I'm not taking anything away from the girls, Delphine,” Kathleen sighed, exasperated. “Just tell me about him. Who is he? Where is his office?”

“I don't know,” Delphine admitted. “I have a phone number for the hospital. When I call, I tell them I have a delicate situation and they give me a day and time for the girl to be there.”

“How are we paying for this?” Kathleen sat down shakily, pressing her hand to her forehead.

Delphine cleared her throat a few times before answering, “They bill the resort.”

“They what now?” Kathleen sat up quickly.

“We set it up so the bill would come through the shops.” Delphine's cheeks went red at being found out. “They must think they're funny though. They bill it to us as 'delivery fees.’ Get it? Because it's babies.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Kathleen started to feel sick. She took a minute to compose herself. “Well, it's a necessary evil with this business, I suppose. Keep it a secret from Mr. Bianco. You girls are my responsibility. What he doesn't know won't kill him.”

“Yes, Missus,” Delphine agreed.

“From now on, Delphine, please tell me when this happens so I can watch out for the bill. I don't need it crossing Mr. Bianco's desk for payment.”

Delphine nodded. As she stood to leave, Kathleen smiled at the nervous girl.

“We'll be fine,” Kathleen reassures her. “Business as usual.”

“Business as usual,” Delphine agreed.

Kathleen left the room, leaning against the hen house door until her body stopped trembling.

Over a late dinner, Kathleen and John made small talk because both of them had a hundred things to say but no inclination to actually say them. John wanted to discuss making Kathleen his _consigliere_ again. Kathleen just wanted to talk about anything that didn't involve her being John's _consigliere_.

“I can always call you my silent _consigliere_ ,” John blurted out over their main course.

“There's no such thing. A _consigliere_ speaks for the boss. I can't exactly be silent if I stand in for you.”

“I know that,” John snapped, frustrated.

“Then why suggest it?” Kathleen snapped back.

“What's wrong with you?” John demanded. “You've been so argumentative lately. If you're still upset about the hit, Nicolo and I had that taken care of. And there's no way that anyone will whack you now that you're the boss' wife.”

Kathleen glared at her plate, holding her tongue. There was no reason to get into a screaming match in the restaurant in front of staff and guests.

“If we're done here,” John said, wiping his mouth as he stood up, “I have to meet with Mr. James. Are you going to take care of the bills for the shop?”

“Yes, I'll figure it out,” Kathleen said.

John raised Kathleen's face to his and dropped a kiss on her mouth.

“I love you, you know,” he said softly. “Everything will be better now. Promise.”

“I know,” Kathleen reassures him. “And I love you too.”

Kathleen stayed at the table for a few more minutes after John left. She finished her coffee and headed to the office.

“Cindy?” she asked as she passed the secretary's desk. “Can you bring me a phone book?”

Kathleen stood at the window wall, looking over her and John's vast domain of fun and vice, watching the people gamble and drink and allow themselves to be picked up by her girls. She didn't even turn around when Cindy dropped off the phone book and announced she was leaving for the night.

Once Kathleen was sure she was alone, she turned around and picked up the phone while flipping pages in the phone book.

“Las Vegas General Hospital,” said a chipper voice on the other end.

“Good evening,” Kathleen said in a quiet voice. “I believe I have a delicate situation.”


	21. Chapter 21

“November in Vegas feels like Spring in Jersey,” John commented as he left the war room. “Minus the rain.”

“Anything is better than the East Coast in November,” Gene agreed. “How’s Mrs. B. doing?”

John shrugged. “She’s okay, I guess. She’s still under the weather. But, who knows? She doesn’t tell me anything.”

“She’s takin’ a long time to kick this cold,” Gene said. “Hope she gets better soon.”

“Thanks, Gene. See you in a little while.” John slapped the other man on the shoulder as he turned down the hall to his office.

Kathleen  _ was _ taking a long time to get over whatever had been bothering her. She shied away from him in bed, always with some excuse that she wasn’t feeling herself or she had a headache. John was trying to be understanding, but six weeks without any kind of physical contact aside from the occasional hug and kiss was too much for him to handle. Kathleen’s illness was Kathleen’s business and she would tell him when she was ready to tell him, if ever. But still, it had been too long since they’d been in bed together when it wasn’t just sleeping.

To take his mind off the fact his wife was treating him like a pariah in the bedroom, John threw himself into work. It wasn’t easy doing it alone, with no  _ consigliere _ to assist, but John decided -- in the light of Kathleen’s suddenly delicate constitution -- that having a woman as his  _ consigliere _ was a terrible idea and he was glad he didn’t go through with it.

“Mr. Bianco?” Cindy’s voice crackled over the intercom. “There’s a Mr. Roche here to see you. He’s from the liquor board.”

John sighed and stood up as Cindy opened his office door, letting in a short, officious-looking man. John tried to hide his immediate annoyance. 

“Mr. Roche, pleased to meet you,” John put on his best smile and held out his hand. “How can I be of service today?”

Mr. Roche of the liquor board ignored John’s handshake and sat down without asking, laying his briefcase across his knees. John paused, eyebrows raised, before sitting down slowly. He eyed the little man with the giant briefcase suspiciously.

“Mr. Bianco, I’ll be brief,” Mr. Roche began.

( _ i bet you are,  _ john thought, smothering a chuckle)

“Your beverage license is being suspended,” Mr. Roche was saying. He opened his case with a snap and handed John a folder with an exaggerated flourish after pretending to read the name on the label.

“What? Why?” John demanded, snatching the folder out of the other man’s hand. 

John opened the folder, scanning the document. It was signed and dated properly, the filing date and number indicating it was processed four days before the opening gala. Across the bottom, though, over his and the prior liquor board representative’s signature was a red stamp that read “Suspended.” John swallowed, feeling sick.

“Why the suspension?” he asked again.

“It’s come to the board’s attention that several businesses in Las Vegas had their licenses sped through the process a little too quickly,” Mr. Roche explained in his prissy, nasally voice. “My colleague has been let go and all proprietors of improperly licensed establishments are being notified.”

“You can’t suspend our license,” John insisted. “We filed the papers correctly.”

“No, sir, you did not,” Mr. Roche argued. “The proper amount of time from filing the paperwork and receiving the license is eight weeks. Your license was issued in three days.”

John sat back in his chair a little. “Oh.”

“Yes, Mr. Bianco:  _ Oh _ .” Mr. Roche had a sparse little moustache that made him look like a rodent. “Now, I’m permitted to offer you another chance to file through the precise and proper channels, Mr. Bianco. I have the paperwork on my person right now.”

“I can’t go dry for eight weeks while I wait for the license,” John protested. “That’ll kill us.”

“Well …” Mr. Roche tapped his cheek lightly as he pretended to think and John knew it was all an act. “I  _ can _ offer you an alternative permit while you wait for your license to go through.”

“And that would be?” John asked, barely hiding his frustration.

“It’s a cabaret license,” Mr. Roche replied. “It lasts for a 24 hour period only and costs $50 a day.”

“$50 a day? For eight weeks?” John exclaimed, aghast at the sum.

“It’s the best I can do and it’s only for a short period of time,” Mr. Roche reassured him.

“Can I pay for it a week at a time?” John asked.

“No.” Mr. Roche shook his head. “You must renew, in person, every 24 hours. Oh, and,” Mr. Roche’s thin lips twitched, “there’s a $100 a week … ah …  _ processing _ fee.”

_ There it is,  _ John thought, but out loud he said, “I suppose I don’t have much choice.”

“Unfortunately, you don’t,” Mr. Roche agreed. He reached into his briefcase and handed John another folder. “Here are the papers for your license and the cabaret license. The cabaret can be signed and paid for now and I’ll file it as soon as I return to the office.”

John glanced at his watch. 9am. So, by 9am the following morning, he had to be at the county seat to refile the cabaret license and pay another $50. John sighed and pulled his checkbook out of his desk.

“Who do I make the check out to?” he asked wearily.

“The $50 cabaret license goes to the Las Vegas County Liquor Licensing Board,” Mr. Roche said.

John signed the check and handed it across his wide desk to the little man, who tucked it into his case. John raised an eyebrow before beginning to write the second check.

“And the processing fee?” he asked sarcastically.

Mr. Roche smiled, revealing yellow buckteeth. “Oh, you can make that out to ‘cash.’”

John sighed and handed over a second check. This check was tucked into the inner pocket of Mr. Roche’s jacket.

“Thank you, Mr. Bianco.” Mr. Roche rose and held out his hand to be shook. “I’m so glad we were able to come to this agreement so amicably.”

John smiled thinly and buzzed Cindy without standing up. “My secretary will show you out.”

Once Mr. Roche was gone, John leaned back in his chair, groaning and covering his eyes. This was a nightmare. $50 times 7 days times 8 weeks equalled … John’s head spun a little.

“So much money,” he groaned out loud. He leaned over and slammed the intercom button. “Cindy!” he barked. “Bring me a bicarbonate of soda!”

A few minutes later, a very timid-looking Cindy entered, holding a glass for him. John took it without looking at her.

“Mr. Bianco?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes?” John replied through clenched teeth.

“There’s a detective here for you.”

“Oh, my god.” John shook his head. “What the hell does he want?”

“I don’t know,” Cindy admitted, sounding nervous. “He just asked for you.”

“What’s the point of me having you if you can’t even ask what the fuck people want?” John snapped. Cindy cringed under his cruel tone, but John didn’t care. “Fine. Send him in.”

Cindy fled the room, leaving the door open. John shot back his bicarbonate, choking on the taste, as a portly, poorly-dressed police detective entered his office.

“Can I help you?” John’s polite manners were gone.

“Mr. Bianco,” the detective began, “I’m Detective  Max Eckhardt. I’m here to ask about some disappearances in the neighborhood recently.”

“Disappearances?” John repeated. He put his glass down and glared up at the man. “What kind of disappearances?”

Detective Eckhardt flipped open his notebook. “A vagrant and a dope fiend.”

“And you think I know something about this?” John asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m just inquirin’ with all the local businessmen,” Detective Eckhardt said carelessly.

“Well, Detective, I haven’t heard a thing about a missing vagrant or dope fiend, but -- if I do -- you’ll be the  _ very _ first person I call.” John didn’t even try to hide his withering tone.

Detective Eckhardt closed his notebook, tucked it back into his pocket, and nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Bianco. The Las Vegas police department always appreciates the help of its local constituents.” Detective Eckhardt was almost out of the room when he suddenly turned back to face John. “That reminds me …”

“Yes?” John asked shortly.

“Do you have a license for the booze you serve here?”

John’s heart stopped as his temper flared. So, that was the game. 

“I have a cabaret license,” he replied carefully.

“Did you, uh, file that this morning?” Detective Eckhardt went on.

“Mr. Roche at the liquor board is taking care of that for me,” John said. “You can take it up with him.”

“I will.” Detective Eckhardt gave John a smug half-smile. “Thanks again for your time.”

“Yeah, I bet.” John grumbled as his office door closed again.

John was just about to start pouring over the mess on his desk while ignoring the new mess he’d somehow stepped in within the last hour when a small knock startled him.

“Mr. Bianco?” Cindy’s voice was carefully quiet as she peeked in the room. “May I come in?”

“Sure, Cindy,” John sighed. “C’mon in. Everyone else has.”

Cindy let herself in, closing the door after her. She stayed, leaning against the door, looking at John fearfully like she wanted to say something, but didn’t have the nerve. John waited. 

“Cindy? Can I do something for you?” he finally asked.

“Mr. Bianco, I’m so sorry I didn’t find out what that detective wanted!” the girl burst out. “He flashed his badge and I got scared and I just didn’t know how to react!”

John sighed again (he seemed to be doing that a lot this morning) as he got up from his desk and headed across the room to reassure his secretary.

“Cindy, it’s okay,” he told her. He patted her shoulder gently. “Detectives can be intimidating. Especially ones as fat as that one.”

Cindy let out a small giggle. “He was fat.”

“Very fat,” John agreed. He squeezed her upper arm lightly. “Everything will be fine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bianco,” Cindy said, looking up at John, relieved. “I didn’t want to make you angry. Or get fired. I like it here.”

It didn’t take a genius to notice how Cindy’s voice had dropped a few octaves, making it softer and breathier. John glanced down at the girl again. She was gazing up at him through her eyelashes, nibbling her bottom lip. Fuck. He knew that look. Every guy alive knew that look.

“That’ll be all, Cindy,” John said abruptly. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Cindy asked, tucking her arms behind her so her shoulders and back arched toward him. From his angle, John could see the small swell of her cleavage under her sweater.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

_ Fuck. _

“Yes, I’m sure.” John stepped back, putting more room between himself and his suddenly-tempting secretary.

“If you need anything, just buzz me,” Cindy reminded him as she slipped out the door with one final glance, her pink lips curling into a little smile.

“I know how the intercom works, thank you,” John said as he suddenly imagined throwing her onto the floor and pounding her into the carpet until he exploded.

Once he was alone, John headed to his liquor cabinet. Pouring himself a whiskey, John paused for a second.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered to himself before tossing the drink back.


	22. Chapter 22

It was two days later and Gene was out paying the  cabaret license again. John sat at his now-messy desk, shaking his head in amazement that he was already out $250 because of this. Chicago probably wouldn’t notice as small a bribe as this with as well as the resort was doing, but it still ate at him. The buzz from the intercom brought John back to the reality.

“Mr. Bianco,” Cindy said, “Detective  Eckhardt is here to see you.”

“Show him in,” John said wearily. 

Cindy opened the door slowly and Detective Eckhardt waddled in.

“Thanks, doll,” Eckhardt said as he brushed up against her while entering the room. John didn’t miss Cindy’s cringe backwards.

“Detective,” John said evenly, standing next to his desk with his hands folded behind him. “What can I do for you?”

“Did you know someone was murdered here last night?” Eckhardt announced without so much as a by-your-leave. The fat detective took a seat without being offered.

“I haven’t had my security briefing yet today.” John didn’t walk back to his seat, choosing to tower over the sitting man.

“Sorry to tell you then.” Eckhardt wiped his mouth with the side of his hand. “We have to investigate the murder.”

“Of course you do.” John could barely hide the withering expression in his voice. “Why are you telling me this, Detective?”

“Because we are going to have to shut down a large portion of the property -- ” Eckhardt began.

“What?” John exclaimed. “What has to be shut down? And for how long?”

The intercom buzzed before Eckhardt could answer. 

“Mr Bianco, Mr. Roche is here to see you and he insisted -- Hey!” Cindy interrupted herself as the door opened. “You can’t just  _ walk _ in there!” Cindy snapped, trying to insert herself between Roche and the office.

“Cindy, it’s okay.” John held up his hand. “I’ve got a feeling this isn’t a coincidence.”

“Yes, sir.” Cindy shot Roche a glare as she left the office.

Roche walked into the room, catching sight of Eckhardt. “Detective,” he said with a nod. 

“Mr. Roche.” Eckhardt returned the slight nod.

“Mr. Roche,” John began, “what is so dire that you needed to forcefully interrupt my meeting with the detective?”

The little man pursed his lips in thought before smiling. “It appears you missed renewing your cabaret licenses on time yesterday.”

“That’s patently untrue,” John told the little man shortly. “As for you,” he pointed at the portly detective, “what do you need to close down to complete your investigation?”

“The pool area, for starters.”

“Starters?”

“Yes.” Eckhardt looked at Roche. “It also appears you were selling liquor without a license as well.” 

Eckhardt smiled a crooked grin that John recognized immediately. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” John said, rolling his eyes and reaching for his bill fold. “You can close the pool area to complete your investigation. As soon as my head of security returns from paying for the daily cabaret license, I will make him available to assist you with video footage. Now, will there be anything else?” 

Eckhardt smiled. “I believe I can overlook the lapse in the liquor license for” -- Eckhardt exchanged a smug glance with Roche -- “at least two?” Roche nodded as Eckhardt turned back to John, “At least two pieces of bread.” 

John inhaled deeply as he slipped two $100 bills from his fold into an envelope. 

“Ahem.” Roche cleared his throat.

“Not to worry, Mr. Roche,” John said sarcastically. “There will be an envelope for you too.”

“I expected nothing less from a man of your integrity.” Roche inclined his pointed chin briefly.

John slipped his last two hundreds into the second envelope. “Mr. Roche, it appears you have bled me dry.”

“Not to worry.”  Mr Roche smiled and looked at Eckhardt. “I’ll just make another visit when you are late paying for your cabaret license. I’m sure the detective would love to come with me too.”

“I’m sure he would,” John said dully. He reached over and pressed the intercom. 

“Yes, Mr. Bianco?” Cindy’s answer was prompt.

“I need Gene to meet Detective Eckhardt. He should be back by now.”

“Right away, Mr. Bianco.”

The office door opened as if by magic before John even let go of the intercom button. If nothing else, Cindy was expeditious.

“You can show Mr. Roche out.” John walked to the front of his desk, dropping the envelopes in the laps of both men. 

Roche and Eckhardt got to their feet, simultaneously tucking their bribes into their pockets. The men made John sick and now he was being blackmailed. By them both.

“Mr. Roche, if you’ll follow me … ” Cindy suggested. 

Roche looked Cindy up and down

“Anytime.” he said in his nasally voice, deep in the back of his throat, in a whisper that was far too loud.

As Roche approached, Cindy peeked behind her at a noise in the outer office. She turned her attention to Eckhardt next.

“Gene is here for you, Detective Eckhardt,” she announced.

“Thank you, Cindy. You can go.” John gave her a sharp look as Gene walked in. 

“Boss,” Gene greeting John. “What can I do for you this morning?” 

He noticed the impossible-to-miss detective and gave John a puzzled look.

“Gene,” John said waving in Eckhardt’s direction. “This is Detective Eckhardt with the Las Vegas police department. He’s here to investigate the murder that took place by our pool last night.”

“Excuse me, Boss?” Gene couldn’t hide his confusion. “No one was murdered by our pool last night. I have the nightly incident report right here.” He handed the file to John. “Only thing that happened was a couple snuck into the pool after hours for a little public romance. They were stopped by security and escorted back to their hotel room.”

“I must have gotten a bad report,” Eckhardt said calmly. “Do you have any cameras in the pool area? I’ve heard this joint is state of the art.”

“The pool area’s covered with cameras.” Gene’s tone started to change from confused to angry. “Do you want to see them from last night?”

“The detective has no reason to see our surveillance footage from last night.” John barely looked at Eckhardt. “Do you, Detective Eckhardt?”

“There musta been some misunderstanding.” Eckhardt shrugged. “I got everything I need this time.”

“This time?” John asked mildly.

“Yes, Mr. Bianco, _ this _ time.” Eckhardt tapped his pocket.

John shook his head. “Gene, please show the detective out. And we can cancel the security brief for today. If I have any questions, I’ll let you know.”

“Works for me, Boss.” Gene escorted Eckhardt out the office door and closed it behind him.

John pressed the intercom button. “Cindy, can you get me some coffee? It’s been a long morning already.”

“Of course.”

John walked from his desk over to the glass wall and lit a cigarette. He stared out over the casino floor. At ten in the morning, the floor was usually pretty quiet and today was no exception. Employees were bustling around, setting up for the early evening crowd that would start to arrive around lunch.

There was a light knock on the door as Cindy opened it slowly.  She was carrying a tray with a carafe of coffee and a single cup. John turned around slowly and immediately noticed the swing of Cindy’s hips. The pencil skirt she wore looked a lot like a few the girls wore when they worked a room. It fit her nicely, accentuating all the right aspects of her thin frame.

“Where would you like this?” Cindy asked, looking down at the tray then up into John’s eyes.

_ On my lap,  _ John thought but replied, “On the desk.” 

Which really didn’t sound much better when John thought about it.

John watched Cindy as she moved around his desk to pour his coffee: bending over a little too far so John had a better view of her ass, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder as she straightened up, the little smile she gave him as she handed him the cup and saucer. It was all for his benefit, as clumsy and obvious as her seduction was.

“Thank you.” John set the cup on the corner of his desk as he slumped into his chair, rubbing his temples to ward off the headache that threatened.

“Can I do anything else for you?” Cindy said in her best sultry voice.

John stopped rubbing his forehead to look up at Cindy, who was standing next to his chair. She looked almost too available, like she was being served up on a platter for him, but … John shook his head. Six weeks without sex. All the shit with Roche and Eckhardt. The bribe money that was flying out of his pockets. It was too much.

“Come here,” John said in a low voice.

Cindy slid closer, cheeks going pink at the implication in his voice.

John pushed his chair back to make room so Cindy could get between him and his desk. Cindy’s cheeks went from pink to red as John took her hands and used them to unbutton his slacks.

“On your knees,” John ordered.

Cindy hesitated for 30 seconds before getting on her knees half under his desk. Pulling his cock out of his fly, Cindy glanced up at John before wrapping her lips around the head. John groaned as his dick was enveloped in her hot mouth. Leaning his head back in the chair, John wrapped his fist in Cindy’s ponytail, using it to work her mouth up and down the shaft, slow at first, then faster and faster until she was gagging at the depth of his thrusts.

“Fuck!” John hissed between his teeth as he finally came, holding Cindy’s head still as she tried to pull away from the explosion.

When he was done, John let go of her hair as she got to her feet unsteadily. Her face and neck were flushed with the effort and her mascara was smudged from her eyes being squeezed shut.

“Do you need a few minutes to compose yourself?” John asked, not unkindly, as he tucked his dick back into his pants. Cindy nodded mutely as she straightened her clothes minutely. “Take a break then, honey. And don’t rush back if you’re not ready.”

“Yes, sir.” Cindy’s voice was barely audible as she hurried across the room to the door.

“Cindy?” John said right before she left. When the girl turned to look at him, John smiled in his disarmingly sweet way. “Thank you.”

All the consternation left Cindy's face as she smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

Once she was gone, John dumped the cold coffee and poured himself a fresh cup. He pushed some papers around on his desk. Now, down to business.

John wasn’t sure how long he actually worked, but he didn’t hear the door open or know someone was in the room until he caught a whiff of Kathleen’s perfume. He looked up, surprised, to see his wife out of bed and dressed, looking a little tired but still lovely.

“Kathleen!” he said, standing up to embrace and kiss her. “How are you, beautiful?”

“Much better.” Kathleen held onto his for longer than he expected and John tightened his grip on her, taking advantage of this long hug to really enjoy holding her again. Kathleen looked up at him while still wrapped in his arms. “How are things?”

John knew she meant the resort, but he deliberately misunderstood. “So much better now that you’re here. Come sit down, Kitten.”

John pushed Kathleen into his chair, then went to get another coffee cup. When he came back, he found Kathleen flipping pages in the check ledger. Kathleen looked up at him, pushing her reading glasses into her hair. John froze.

“What’s all this?” Kathleen pointed at the ledger.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” John replied quickly.

“Nothing?” Kathleen asked. Without looking down at the page again, she traced the column of bribery check totals under her finger reached the bottom. “Why are we paying so much to the liquor board? What is a cabaret license? And who the hell are we paying off in the LVPD detective department?”

John sighed and told her exactly what happened while she had been indisposed as Kathleen listened intently and drank his cooling coffee. When John was done, Kathleen stood up, pulling at the blue sweater set she was wearing.

“I’ll take care of this,” she announced.

“No, you won’t!” John exclaimed. “You’re only just now feeling better and I won’t have you making yourself sick over this. Besides, you have no idea who these men are.”

“Howard Roche is a little man who looks like a rodent and Max Eckhardt is as big as a house,” Kathleen replied sharply. “I know exactly how to handle this.”

“Kathleen,” John said darkly as his wife strode toward the door, “I forbid it.”

Kathleen paused on her way out the open door. “Good thing I didn’t say ‘obey’ during our wedding ceremony then.”

John paused to consider this as Kathleen left their office, barking at Cindy to get Roche and Eckhardt on the phone.


	23. Chapter 23

Kathleen met Eckhardt and Roche in the lounge at 8pm. She had extended an invitation to them both, under the guise of meeting her husband’s “business associates.” Both men initially balked at the idea, but Kathleen’s charm could not be denied, even over the phone.

Drinks and appetizers were already waiting, along with Kathleen in a slinky, black strapless satin number that John was sure he’d never seen before. Watching her work her way through the bar from his office above the resort floor, John prayed he’d made the right decision by letting Kathleen do this.

John shook his head ruefully.  _ Letting _ Kathleen. Like  _ not _ letting Kathleen do anything was an option.

“Gentlemen! So nice to finally put names to the faces,” Kathleen shook Roche’s then Eckhardt’s hands as she simultaneously kissed them on the cheeks. “Please, sit down.” 

Kathleen gestured at the table in front of them before sitting on a small sofa by herself. She crossed her legs, the slit in her dress opening up to let the mens’ eyes follow the line of her stocking up to her thigh. She leaned forward to pour them martinis out of the pitcher on the table, making Roche and Eckhardt exchange identical looks over the view they were getting. Leg man or breast man, Kathleen had them both covered.

“So, fellas,” Kathleen said expansively, leaning back into the plush sofa, both arms spread across the back of the seat, “what do you think of our little establishment? Pretty lush?”

“It’s very nice.” Roche took a sip of his drink and coughed. “A little strong,” he explained. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“And, yet, you work for the liquor board,” Kathleen teased, giggling. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Very funny.” Roche’s color was already rising, but Kathleen wasn’t sure of it was the booze or the attention.

“How about you, Detective Eckhardt?” Kathleen asked next, turning her gaze on the enormous police officer. “Do you usually imbibe?”

“Only when I’m off-duty,” Eckhardt responded immediately, as if by rote. He slugged down the rest of his martini and held the empty glass out to Kathleen. “Fill me up, buttercup.”

“Of course.” Kathleen did as she was bade, then motioned for the waiting second pitcher to be brought over. 

“Aren’t you going to have any?” Roche asked her, sounding slightly suspicious.

Kathleen held up her glass, which was plain water, garnished with an olive. “Right here, Mr. Roche.”

Roche’s beady eyes glittered. “Call me Howard.”

Kathleen smiled, blushing prettily. “Call me Kathleen. Howard.”

“I’m Max,” Eckhardt blurted out, desperate to get back into the conversation.

Kathleen bit her top lip as she batted her eyelashes at Eckhardt. “Of course, Max. Who could forget you?”

The second batch of martinis went down smoother than the first and, over a plate of canapés utterly destroyed by Eckhardt, Kathleen fought off the clumsy advances of the two men. 

“Howard, honey,” Kathleen finally spoke up in a breathy, Marilyn Monroe voice, “tell me about this nasty business with our liquor license.”

“Ah-ah-ah.” Roche waggled his finger at her. “That’s man talk. Fit for your husband only. No need for  _ you _ to worry about it.”

Kathleen smiled serenely and poured Roche another drink.

“Pfft!” Eckhardt sprayed food all over his shirtfront. “Next you’ll be asking me about the murder investigation.”

“Murder?” Kathleen gasped, laying her hand over her cleavage. “What murder?”

Eckhardt leaned over and grabbed Kathleen by the knees, his fat fingers digging into her thigh. Kathleen held back a small grunt of pain. Eckhardt leered at her.

“No murder,” he stage-whispered at her. “But you man’s paying me a mint to keep him out of jail because of his liquor license.”

There it was. Kathleen fluttered her eyes closed briefly like she was about to faint before stroking Eckhardt’s hand, which was still on her leg.

“Clever detective,” she whispered.

“Don’t tell nobody,” Eckhardt warned.

“No one would believe me.” Kathleen gave Eckhardt her most innocent gaze. “I’m just a woman, after all. What do  _ I  _ know of business?”

Kathleen snapped her fingers and was hastily flanked by two of her girls, who each took a seat on either side of their boss. Both Roche and Eckhardt suddenly didn’t know where -- or at whom -- to look.

“Gentlemen, this is Susan and this is Elly,” Kathleen said as she stood up. “I’m sure they can’t wait to hear all about you. I hate to be a party pooper, but I  _ must  _ go sleep off all these martinis!” Kathleen giggled inanely, pretending to stumble a little as she wiggled away from the foursome. “Booze just goes  _ right  _ to my head!”

Roche and Eckhardt leaped to their feet to say goodbye to Kathleen, but she was long gone by the time they tore their eyes away from their dates. Once she was far enough away, Kathleen dropped her drunk act and swiftly headed upstairs to the girls’ floor. There she met the two guards partnered with Susan and Elly. Each man was armed with a camera that the souvenir photo girls used and matching stony expressions.

“Do you understand your roles?” Kathleen asked.

Both guards answered affirmatively. Kathleen nodded sharply.

“Good. Remember: pictures, a lot of them, and  _ don’t _ interfere unless something goes awry.” Kathleen pointed at one man, then the other. “Yes? Yes?”

Once she was satisfied with her answers, Kathleen made Delphine aware of the impending situation before sashaying confidently into John’s dimly lit office. She found him there in casual slacks and short sleeves open over a white undershirt.

“Is that a new dress?” John asked indifferently. He poured her a bourbon and held it out while Kathleen slipped off her elbow-length black gloves.

“Yes. Do you like it?” Kathleen replied, taking the bourbon gratefully. “I call it my  _ Gilda _ dress.”

“How much did that set me back?” John asked as Kathleen went to the window to watch the drama unfolding below in the lounge. He admired how the black satin clung to her hips, his fingers itching to feel the material that hugged the curve of her ass.

Kathleen tossed John a sexy look over one bare shoulder. “Not at much as you’ve been paying those shady characters.”

“Ow, Kitten,” John said quietly, coming up behind her. He moved her Rita Hayworth hairstyle out of the way so he could kiss where her neck met her shoulder. “That hurt.”

Kathleen inhaled sharply at the tickle of his breath on her skin. God, it had been much too long since she’d let John touch her. But … doctor’s orders … Kathleen put the thought out of her head. She was long past the necessary recovery period, so there was nothing stopping her from suggesting that she and John --

Wait. Kathleen wiggled away from John’s caress to watch her two girls lead Roche and Eckhardt to the elevators. Kathleen craned her neck to see, not looking away until the elevator doors closed after the four of them. Satisfied that her plan just might work, Kathleen took a half step back to make contact with John, who immediately grabbed her hips to pull her against him tightly.

“John?” she whispered.

“Hmmm?” he mumbled back, his mouth busy kissing the nape of her neck and across her naked shoulder blades.

Kathleen threw her left arm around John’s neck and took one of his hands to find the zipper that held her dress up.

“Pull this down,” she ordered softly as John caught the zipper between his thumb and forefinger.

“With pleasure.” John had her dress unzipped faster than he finished his own statement.

Kathleen shimmied out of the tight material as John reached behind him to turn off his lackluster desk lamp. Once the room was completely dark, John reached between Kathleen’s legs to slip her panties to the side. She was already so wet, sliding his fingers into her was easy.

“Just screw me,” Kathleen begged as John teased her clit with his thumb and unbuckled his pants at the same time.

“Hang on, lemme get my pants off,” John said, pushing his boxers down.

“John, please,” Kathleen moaned.

Leaning on her arms against the glass window overlooking the casino, Kathleen bent over as John ripped open the crotch of her thin panties for access to her pussy. Grabbing her by the hip with one hand, John guided himself into her with the other.

“Goddamn, you’re fucking tight,” he gasped as he grasped her hips and started to thrust.

“Oh, god, John,” Kathleen groaned as John pounded her from behind.

It took no time before Kathleen let out a shriek as she came. Then again. And again. John desperately tried to play chess with himself in his own head to last longer, but she was so tight and so wet and the stockings with the heels and the corset and her ripped panties and --

“Holy shit!” John yanked Kathleen backwards against him one more time as he came.

Kathleen tossed her head back, letting out one last cry. She fell against the window, resting her forehead on the cool glass. John propped himself up on one hand on the glass next to her head to steady himself.

“Let’s never wait that long again,” he panted, trying to catch his breath.

“Absolutely,” Kathleen agreed.

Hours later, the resort photographer delivered two folders of damning pictures to Mr. and Mrs. Bianco in their office. They were sitting in his desk chair, her on his lap, eating grapes and bread and cheese, and acting like they were the only people on the planet. He left the folders on the desk with the barest of acknowledgements from the Biancos. 

“Can we just sleep right here?” Kathleen whispered drowsily in John’s ear, her head resting on his shoulder.

John popped a grape in his mouth before taking a shot of bourbon. “No way, Kitten. You’ll kill my legs.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?” Kathleen murmured, poking John in the ribs.

“No, lover,” John replied. “I’m saying I want to get you off my lap and into my bed so I can feel you all naked next to me.”

“Sweet-talker,” Kathleen accused him.

“Did it work?” John asked.

“Yes,” Kathleen admitted. “Now take me home and get me naked.”

“Yes, ma’am!” John scooched her off his lap before putting both arms around her waist to half-carry her to their elevator.

“The pictures,” Kathleen reminded him, grabbing the folders.

Upstairs, in their penthouse, the second time John stripped Kathleen of her black satin dress was even better than the first. And to mention the third time would almost be like bragging.

Mr. Howard Roche woke in the bed of a blonde whore whose name he could not recall because he was suffering from the worst hangover -- rather, the  _ first _ hangover -- he’d ever had in his life. Groaning and squinting, Roche sat up and peered blearily around a pink and white flowered room that looked like it belonged to a schoolgirl than to a working girl.

A quarter of the way through his survey of the room, Roche saw a familiar form sitting at the bedside. Rubbing his eyes, Mrs. Bianco -- no, Kathleen -- came into view. She was fresh-faced and rested and didn’t look at all hungover.

“Good morning, Mr. Roche,” she said cheerfully. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Fine, I suppose,” Roche answered carefully. “What’s going on here?”

“Well, honestly, I’m here to blackmail you.” Kathleen threw a folder onto Roche’s legs.

Roche sat up in the bed and opened the folder before immediately slapping it back closed again. He clutched the folder in his suddenly-sweaty hand and shook it at her.

“What is this?” he demanded, his voice trembling as much as his hands.

“It’s insurance,” Kathleen replied in the maddingly cheery voice which was like nails on a chalkboard in Roche’s head. “Actually, it’s pictures of Elly fucking you in the ass with a sex toy, but -- for propriety’s sake --let’s just stick with insurance, shall we?”

Roche’s pale skin went grey and he swallowed down a mouthful of vomit. “What do you want?”

“It’s very simple,” Kathleen said. “I want you to stop screwing us around and file our liquor license. You can, of course, keep the processing fees that you’ve already acquired, but you can expect nothing more from this establishment.” Kathleen flicked invisible lint off her slacks before meeting Roche’s horrified stare. “Or else everyone in your church congregation will know about your dirty secret,  _ Elder _ Roche.” Kathleen stood up as Roche clutched the folder to his chest then began to rip it apart, pictures included. “Do we understand each other?”

“Yes!” Roche tore the pictures to bits as Elly finally stirred next to him.

“Oh, and Elder Roche?” Kathleen added from the doorway. “I do hope you know those aren’t my only copies. Have a blessed day.”

Detective Max Eckhardt emerged from the girl’s bathroom, wearing just his circus tent-sized boxer shorts, to find the bed devoid of his hooker, but the lovely Mrs. Bianco sitting at her vanity table.

“Good morning, Detective,” she said, smiling placidly. She crossed those shapely legs of hers, now all covered up in pants, a manila folder on her lap. “How are you this morning?”

“What do you want?” Eckhardt asked, scratching his butt before sitting on Susan’s bed and lighting a cigarette.

“I’ve come to talk about the financial arrangement you have with my husband,” Kathleen replied. “Which is ending today.”

Eckhardt laughed before flicking ash on the rug. “Why should it? Because you got some pictures of me with a hooker? You know how many cops fuck hookers?”

“I’m sure that there are plenty,” Kathleen agreed. “But the particular hookers you seem to be partial to … Well, I’m not sure if your police department buddies would agree with them.”

Kathleen held up a photo of Eckhardt in bed with Susan while a male prostitute performed oral sex on him.

“What the fuck?” Eckhardt roared, jumping up and dropping his cigarette on the carpet. “I didn’t know that was a guy!”

“Yes. Funny, isn’t it?” Kathleen said as she tucked the photo back into the folder. “Male prostitutes are rare. You were very lucky to find Charlie. I heard he’s very good at what he does.”

“I ain’t no queer,” Eckhardt argued as his cigarette smoldered at his feet.

“Oh, I know,” Kathleen reassured him. “And I’m sure Charlie knows. But …” Kathleen paused to peek inside the folder again before looking up at the fat detective, “would the police department believe you?”

“You can’t do this,” Eckhardt stammered. “What -- what do ya want? I’ll do it. Whatever you want.”

“I want you to take your blackmail business elsewhere, Detective,” Kathleen told him. “Take it and yourself and be away with it or else I’ll wallpaper the squad room with these photos.” Kathleen held the folder out to Eckhardt. “Did you want to see the one where Charlie is--”

“No!” Eckhardt shouted. “Fine! Fine! You got it, lady!”

Kathleen stood up, dropping the folder on the vanity chair. “Thank you, Detective. And you can keep these if you like, courtesy of La Bella Ricorrere. Free of charge.”

Kathleen joined John for breakfast at their usual table, where he was reading the morning edition of the Las Vegas Sun News. Sliding into her seat across from him, Kathleen took a sip of coffee and began to eat her grapefruit. 

“Kitten?” John asked without looking up from his article.

“Yes?” Kathleen replied as she thumbed through a newspaper section he wasn’t reading.

“Will you please stand by me and act as my  _ consigliere _ ?” John asked, looking up at her.

Kathleen smiled at her breakfast before meeting John’s eyes across the table.

“Of course I will,” she agreed. “All you had to do was ask.”


	24. Chapter 24

John reached across the bed to Kathleen’s side before opening his eyes. When her warm body wasn’t there to meet his fingers, John blinked blearily and rubbed his eyes. The alarm clock read 8.30am and Kathleen’s pillow was cool. How long had she been up?

“What the hell?” John grumbled as he rose from bed and headed into the main room.

An empty room with a table messed with breakfast items greeted John. Yawning, John tried to pour himself a cup of coffee but found the carafe as empty as the rest of the penthouse. Punching the buttons on his phone, John rang down to his office.

“Mr. Bianco’s office,” Cindy’s chipper voice greeted him.

“Cindy, is my wife there?” John asked, picking at the leftovers on Kathleen’s plate.

“No, sir. I believe she’s in her war room,” Cindy replied.

“Her war --” John made an annoyed noise. “Yeah, thanks, Cindy.”

John hung up, forgoing dialing down to room service for his own breakfast. Kathleen’s new and sudden habit of being up at daybreak to head downstairs to work had been going on for about three weeks and had been grating on John’s nerves for two of them. The first morning, John had tried to stop Kathleen from getting up, pulling at her nightgown playfully to tug her back into bed, but Kathleen had shook off his insistence, giggling.

“Go back to sleep,” she’d said. “I just want to check on the girls’ night.”

“C’mon, Kitten,” John had argued. “No one is up this early in Vegas. It’s not natural.”

“I just want to check on the girls and I’ll come right back,” Kathleen had promised, but she never did come back that first day.

Or the second. Or the third.

By the beginning of the second week, John hadn’t even bothered to try and stop Kathleen, but just glared at her as she left the room without a glance in his direction. John was all for being diligent when it came to running a tight ship, but Kathleen was taking it a little far. Between Madge and Delphine, the girls were well-cared for and well-regulated. There was no reason for Kathleen to go bolting out of bed at the crack of dawn and head down to her office (John refused to call it her “war room”).

When John strolled into his office an hour later, he found three folders laid neatly on his desk blotter: one nightly report, one security report, and one city report. Cindy brought him coffee and a doughnut. Mr. James and Gene appeared when summoned and briefed him on their respective specialties while John thumbed through the reports. John took a phone call from a councilman who wanted to meet with him about a “business proposition.”

Lighting a cigarette, John spun his chair around to gaze out over his kingdom. He leaned back casually. This was the way it was supposed to be: overseeing the business with the hard legwork being accomplished by trustworthy men hand-picked by himself.

“Cindy?” John said into the intercom. “Get my wife on the phone.”

“Yes, Mr. Bianco.”

John’s phone rang and he picked it up.

“Morning, Kitten,” he said lazily, flicking ash into the marble ashtray at his elbow. “How’s your day going?”

“Fine.” Kathleen’s voice was harried. “Hold on, John.” There was a muffled sound as Kathleen moved the receiver away her mouth. “Peggy! Get me the salon account!” Kathleen came back on the line. “What can I do for you, John?”

John ignored the fact she used his real name in an obviously busy room. “I was just checking up on you.”

“I’m fine, thank you. Thanks, Peg,” Kathleen said.

“Did you want to grab an early lunch --” John began as Kathleen suddenly called out, “Can someone bring me a sandwich and salad for lunch?”

“And never mind lunch then,” John said, rolling his eyes.

“Listen, love, I’m trying to negotiate a bigger account balance at the salon for the girls,” Kathleen told him. “Can we talk later?”

“We’ve barely talked now,” John told her drily.

Kathleen sighed into the phone. “I know. Listen, let’s have dinner upstairs tonight. Just us two. No interruptions.”

“That sound great,” John agreed.

“Great. See you then.” Kathleen made a kissy sound and started to yell “I swear to god, someone better bring me --” as she hung up.

Cindy opened the office door, walking in with a tray. She smiled as John looked at her, puzzled.

“I heard you mention lunch,” she explained as she laid the tray on his desk in front of him.

John caught her hand as Cindy went to walk away. 

“Stay a minute, won’t you?” he asked softly.

Cindy’s cheeks went pink as John pulled her into his lap.

Kathleen was obviously distracted. John watched her eat like she was moving on automatic. He put down his fork and knife and cleared his throat. Kathleen started, like she just realized he was sitting across from her.

“Good day?” John asked.

Kathleen shrugged and reached for her drink. When she noticed that her glass had been drained, she poured herself more wine. 

“I suppose,” she replied, but only after she took a long swallow. “The salon owner is being a bastard about raising our balance.”

“Did you want me to say something to him?” John offered, moving the wine bottle out of her reach.

Kathleen rolled her eyes. “I can handle something as insignificant as a salon owner.” 

She reached for the wine bottle before noticing that it was now on John’s side of the table. Standing a little, she took the bottle and poured the rest of it in her glass. Sighing, she pushed her half-eaten dinner away from her and sat back in her chair, sipping her wine.

“Is that all you’re eating?” John asked.

“I’m just not hungry,” Kathleen admitted, making a little face as she nudged the plate with the stem of her glass.

John snorted. “Maybe if you stopped acting like your wine was a food group, you’d be more hungry.”

Kathleen raised one eyebrow and deliberately took another long swallow of her drink, her eyes locked with John’s. John glared at her, narrowing his eyes.

“You sound like a nagging wife,” Kathleen told him, crossing her arms on the table and leaning toward him.

“You need to sound more like a wife and less like a man,” John told her sharply.

Kathleen pressed her lips together, shooting John a death glare. “Oh, do I?”

“Yeah, you do,” John said. “Maybe stay in bed in the morning with me? Eat more than one meal together? Go to a show at night instead of working until 11 o’clock?”

Kathleen let out a short laugh. “Now you  _ definitely _ sound like a nagging wife.”

“Fuck you, Kathleen,” John snapped. He shoved his chair back from the table, but didn’t get up. Getting up would admit defeat. There was no fucking way he was letting Kathleen win this fight. “You may be in charge of the girls and run this place with me, but you’re still my wife. Enough is enough. No more up before dawn to run away down to your “war room” (John made sarcastic quotes with his fingers) “and act like you’re the only one here who does anything.”

“Are you going to stop me?” Kathleen asked.

“I am,” John told her.

“I’d like to see you try,” Kathleen challenged. She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs, chin tilted up at him defiantly.

“Oh, you little bit --” John cut himself off. He stood up quickly and headed around the table to his smirking wife.

Grabbing her upper arm, John yanked Kathleen to her feet. Pulling her against his chest, John saw Kathleen’s demeanor change: coy smile, arched brow, faster breathing, heart thudding. John wrapped one arm around her waist, twisting her arm behind her back, pinning her to him even closer.

“Is this what you want, Kitten?” he whispered.

“No,” Kathleen breathed, licking her lips.

“I think your ‘no’ is a ‘yes.’” John’s mouth approached hers.

“It’s not. Stop it, John.” Kathleen’s voice was practically a moan as their lips met.

John couldn’t deny that the way Kathleen melted under the touch of his mouth wasn’t gratifying, but there was no way he was going to let her win the fight. But when Kathleen started to unbuckle his belt and work her hand into his pants all thoughts other than fucking his wife were banished out of John’s head.

Knowing there was no way they were going to make it to the bedroom, John laid Kathleen on the plush rug and stood over her to strip off his suit, while she watched him hungrily.

John’s long fingers undressed Kathleen swiftly, slipping off her blouse, skirt, and underthings expertly. Kissing, touching, licking, pinching, all so desperately, lasciviously, deliberately slow that when John finally did sink deep inside Kathleen, she threw her head back, arched her body, and came right away. Moving together, John and Kathleen locked eyes as pleasure crashed over them in waves.

“Oh, god, John,” Kathleen breathed, wrapping her legs through his to pull him against her tighter. Kathleen’s fingers dug into his waist as she lifted her hips higher to meet his pace.

“F _ uuuu _ ck,” John groaned as his hips began to stutter.

“That’s it, lover,” Kathleen gasped as she came again. Flinging her arms out to the side and sitting up to meet John’s lips in an uncoordinated kiss, Kathleen moaned into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, Kathleen,” John panted, thrusting forward and sending Kathleen backwards across the rug a few inches as he finished.

John rolled off Kathleen to flop down on his back next to her. He glanced his wife’s way, loving the way her skin flushed and the way she smiled with her eyes closed after sex. John leaned over and kissed her shoulder. Kathleen opened her eyes to meet his, licking her bottom lip a little.

“That was nice,” she said faintly.

“Just nice?” John teased. “It looked a lot better than nice from my angle.”

Kathleen sighed, rolling her eyes, as a little laugh threatened to escape. “Fine. It was absolutely amazing. Sex with you is always mind-blowingly incredible.”

“Oh, I know,” John agreed.

“Ass!” Kathleen slapped his chest and got up.

“Where are you going?” John asked, leaning up on one elbow to watch her walk across the room.

“Bed.” Kathleen turned, her whole demeanor changed. Hands on her hips, she raised her chin a little to look down her nose at him. “I have an early meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Wait a fucking minute --” John began, scrambling to his feet.

Kathleen turned on her heel and left the room. Furious, John followed her into the bedroom. He found her at her vanity, pulling off her earrings. She barely glanced up at his reflection in the mirror as he loomed over her threateningly.

“Kathleen White, if you leave this house tomorrow, I swear to god, you’re going to be sorry,” John told her through clenched teeth.

“You need to be at the meeting too,  _ dummkopf _ ,” Kathleen said, exasperated. “It’s the city councilman you talked to earlier today. He called back this afternoon, but couldn’t get through to you. The switchboard directed his call to my office. As your  _ consigliere _ , I set up the day and time. What were you doing this afternoon that you couldn’t take that phone call?”

John flashed back to that afternoon, with Cindy bent over his desk, crying out like a little bird as he slammed his hips against her from behind.

“Maybe Cindy was on break,” he lied smoothly.

“Well, whatever the reason, we’re meeting him tomorrow morning before he goes into his office.” Kathleen looked her reflection one final time before standing up. She stood on her toes to kiss him on the mouth. “Come to bed, dearest. I’ll do that thing with my tongue you love.”

“Well, I’m not turning that down,” John said

The ringing alarm clock jarred John awake. Reaching over to slam the thing off, John glanced over at Kathleen’s side of the bed. Empty.

“Goddamn it!” he exclaimed. “I’m gonna find her and I’m gonna --”

“You’re gonna what?” Kathleen asked from the doorway.

“Kiss you good morning right on the mouth, beautiful,” John replied easily.

Kathleen’s mouth quirked to the side. “Uh-huh. I’m just up too. Breakfast should be here soon.”

When Kathleen left the room, John touched her pillow. It was cool under his fingers.

“Just up too, my ass,” John grumbled under his breath.

It was then that John decided Kathleen was going to start acting more like a wife and less like a business partner or he was going to start treating her less like a wife and more like a business partner.


End file.
